Blood Is a Stranger by Roland Perry Page A

a step forward, but Beena caught him by the forearm.
    â€˜Stay out of this,’ he said. ‘It’s none of your business.’
    â€˜It’s my business, all right,’ Cardinal said. ‘I provoked that ape at the pub.’
    Cardinal shrugged Beena off and strode to the ute where Elaine had shepherded her children.
    Malone retreated to his juggernaut’s cabin. He revved the engine.
    Burra leapt on the logs. ‘Back up, mate,’ he yelled, as a group of Aborigines joined him.
    Malone opened the door of the cabin. ‘Look, you buggers,’ he bellowed, ‘I’m not part of the convoy. I’m deliverin’ grog for the mine!’
    â€˜Sorry, Mick,’ Burra said. ‘No trucks get through.’
    Seconds later Malone pumped the accelerator again and this time pushed his vehicle hard at the logs. They moved a few metres. Burra was forced to jump clear. He ordered his colleagues to return to the clearing.
    â€˜Mick,’ Burra called, ‘we have spoken to O’Laughlin. He agrees that no vehicles get through until he arrives.’
    Malone braked his juggernaut. He leaned out of the cabin and tried to address the Aborigines at the clearing.
    â€˜What’s wrong with you pricks!’ he boomed, with amazed indignation. ‘I’m carrying plenty of grog. You can all have some if you let me through.’
    While the big man repeated his offer, Cardinal easedthe rifle from under the front seat of the ute and began to make his way to the causeway from behind trees.
    Malone was puzzled when no one came forward to take up his bribe. Burra bounced onto the logs again.
    â€˜You’ve got your answer, Mick,’ Burra said, pointing to the other side of the causeway. The expression on Malone’s face turned to anger. He bent down out of sight and then climbed down from the cabin holding a metre-long iron pipe.
    Burra stood his ground, but Malone came at him, cursing. Burra jumped clear of the logs. Malone showed surprising agility for his bulk as he hurtled over the logs swinging the pipe. Burra ducked and slipped on the causeway gravel. Malone jumped forward and swung the pipe down but missed by a tiny amount as Burra rolled over. The weapon left a gap in the gravel. Malone swung it back over his head and caught Burra a painful glancing blow. He groaned and fell flat. The big man scrambled to straddle him and deliver a blow to the skull. He raised the pipe but hesitated. Cardinal was crouching with the rifle in front of him.
    â€˜Don’t!’ Cardinal warned, coming close so that the rifle was only centimetres from Malone’s heaving chest. They were surrounded by blacks.
    â€˜Shoot the bastard!’ several urged Cardinal.
    â€˜We’ll say it was self-defence!’ one of them called. ‘The cops don’t care about scum like him!’ Malone was uncertain if Cardinal was bluffing or not. Their eyes were locked.
    â€˜Blow his brains out!’ Beena hissed at Cardinal.
    â€˜Too small a target,’ he replied. The blacks roared their approval and pressed close. Malone realised that even if Cardinal were bluffing he would be slaughtered by the mob that now stood between him and his vehicle. He lowered the pipe to his chest.
    â€˜Watch the tricky bugger,’ Burra said as he got to his feet. A red welt had developed on his back.
    â€˜Drop it very slowly,’ Cardinal commanded.
    Malone hung his head and grimaced as the weapon slipped from his ringers and clattered to the ground. Cardinal pointed at the juggernaut, and Malone began to shuffle towards it.
    A black grabbed the pipe and ran to the vehicle. He leapt on the cabin and smashed the windows. The big man roared as several Aborigines blocked his path. He swung several punches but was brought down by blows and kicks.
    Burra winced in pain as he rushed to restrain them. He hauled a couple off Malone and ordered them to let him go. The big man got to his feet holding a