by Barbara Wood
Adam suddenly said, "No, no," and quickly removed something from the table. Joanna smiled and said, "May we step outside, Mr. Westbrook?"
After she closed the door behind them, she said quietly, "Adam has made you a present, and he doesn't want you to see it yet. I must warn you, you might not be able to identify it. It's a pipe holder."
"But I don't smoke."
"He saw it in a magazine, and he decided you must have one. He's worked on it all day. How was your journey, Mr. Westbrook?"
"I stopped by the Land Office in Melbourne, and gave them the details in your deed. I thought that if the land is in Victoria, they might be able to locate it with the few clues the deed provides. We should be hearing from them in a few weeks. Unfortunately, inquiries at the library didn't produce any results, but I did leave a request to forward any information that might come along about a place called Karra Karra."
"Thank you," Joanna said. "I appreciate everything you've done." She wanted to say more, tell him about her apprehensions and her fears, and that she had been thinking about leaving. But she didn't know how to begin.
"How is Adam?" Hugh asked.
"He's talking a little more. Sarah is very good with him. But we still can't get him to talk about his mother, or what happened."
"I'll be taking him to Lismore tomorrow for Christmas dinner."
"I had thought you would."
"What about you, Miss Drury? What will you do?"
"Dr. Ramsey is coming to have Christmas dinner with me. I assumed it would be all right."
"Of course," he said. He was aware of moths flitting against the lantern, and mosquitoes whining in the heat, and of Joanna's perfume.
"I bought Adam a present in Melbourne. Here," he said. Joanna took the parcel, and when she unwrapped the sacking, she saw a handsome, shiny brass spyglass, the kind mariners used.
"And this is for the girl, for Sarah," Hugh said. It was a scarf, embroidered with flowers. "I'll leave these here on the veranda. You can give them to Adam and Sarah in the morning." He reached into his pocket. "And this is for you."
Joanna lifted the lid of the small box and found a pair of delicate blue earrings nestled on a bed of velvet.
"The stones are lapis lazuli," Hugh said. "I guessed at the color. I was trying to match the blue in the brooch you often wear."
They were beautiful, and a perfect match for the brooch.
"Thank you," she said. "They're lovely." She was aware of Hugh's nearness. She wanted to put her arms around him and kiss him and tell him that it was the most beautiful present she had ever received, and that she loved him.
"Wear them tomorrow," he said.
Joanna looked at the box in her flour-dusted hands, and she thought: These are not meant to be worn for Dr. Ramsey, or for any other man except you.
"I have a present for you, too," she said, and she went inside the cabin, returning with a parcel wrapped in string and brown paper. When he opened it, he stared at the contents.
"It's for your poetry," Joanna said.
Hugh ran his hand over the rich leather binding, which was intricately tooled, the word "Journal" stamped in gold leaf on the cover. He opened the book to blank pages that were creamy white and waiting to be filled. "It's beautiful," he said, thinking of the ballad he had begun on the road to Melbourne:
The trail is long and the dams are dry; The burrs are clinging to raw, red feet; Under the imminent brazen sky Hovers a haze of heat....
He had written it on the back of a sales receipt. He could transfer it to this book.
"So," he said. "Merry Christmas, Joanna." He wanted to say: David Ramsey is in love with you. He wants to marry you.
And he was astonished at the wave of desire that swept through him.
While he had been gone these past two weeks, he had not been able to get her out of his mind. Joanna had appeared to him, in his solitary thoughts on the road, as a mercurial figure, part girl, part woman. He hadn't been able to fix her in his mind; the vision of her had changed from second to second, as if he couldn't capture her. But here she was now, filling the outlines he had carried in his mind. All of a sudden, words came to him: "She traversed the great swelled seas/To this golden land ..."
"I'll be leaving then," he said, thinking, Pauline will be wondering where I am. "By the way, a Mr. McNeal will be coming by day after tomorrow. He's the architect who is going to build the new house. Construction will begin on New Year's Day. It should be ready to be moved into by the time of the wedding."
Yes, Joanna thought. The wedding, the new house. Pauline ...
"Mr. Westbrook, before you go, there is something I must talk to you about."
He was surprised by the sudden seriousness in her tone. "What is it?"
She felt her heart race. "Mr. Westbrook, I'm thinking of leaving Merinda. I think I should go."
He stared at her. "What are you talking about? What do you mean, leaving?"
"I heard you ride into the yard just a short while ago, so I assume you haven't spoken with Bill Lovell yet. Mr. Westbrook, while you were gone, the rest of your Aboriginal stock hands left. It's because of me, isn't it?"
He gave her a startled look. "Why on earth would you say that?"
"Sarah told me that Ezekiel has been telling the station hands that I'm bad luck for Merinda, that something terrible is going to happen here if I stay. And on the day you left for Melbourne, I encountered Ezekiel down by the river." Joanna briefly described the incident.
"I told Ezekiel to stay away from you."
"It's not his fault, Mr. Westbrook. You can't be angry with him because of his beliefs. His people were here first. He's only trying to defend something important to him. This is all a part of what brought me to Australia, to try and find the ancient way of life that used to be here, that has affected my family, that is affecting me. And part of it has to do with what Ezekiel sees about me. I can't ignore it. I have to figure out how to understand it and come to terms with it. I don't want to go, but I think there will only be more trouble if I stay."
"Surely you don't believe the nonsense he's spreading, do you? You don't honestly believe in things like bad magic!"
"It doesn't matter what I believe, it's what he believes. And he's got the men who work for you believing it, too. If I go, they'll come back—"
"No," he said. "You're not going. I won't allow that old devil to dictate to me how to run my station."
"But your workers—"
"I'll hire more." He suddenly took her by the shoulders. "Miss Drury," he said. "Joanna. Don't let Ezekiel frighten you. He won't hurt you. He's harmless really—"
"But it's not just Ezekiel," Joanna said. "The day I arrived at the harbor, a young Aborigine came on board to carry baggage. If you could have seen the way he looked at me—I think he was afraid of me. And I had a dream, a nightmare, about you ... about us. It was so real, and it has stayed with me ever since—a feeling of dread, that something terrible is going to happen. Hugh," she said. "I'm afraid. I'm frightened for Merinda, for you, for Adam, and for myself. There is another world here, which we can't see, but which I am starting to feel. My mother felt this, too. She lived thousands of miles from here, but she believed the forces had their roots here, from somewhere in Australia. The Aborigines believe in supernatural powers, they believe in poison-songs and magic. How can we say they're wrong? How can we know?"
"I'm not going to let you leave, Joanna, not like this. Anyway, where would you go?" His grip tightened on her shoulders and he brought his face close to hers. "You must stay, Joanna. Say you'll stay."
Suddenly, they heard footsteps, someone hurrying across the yard. Matthew, one of the stableboys, ran up the stairs and said, "Mr. Westbrook! Come quick! Mr. Lovell's sick!"
Hugh went with him across the yard, and Joanna went into the cabin for her healing kit, and then followed. They found Bill lying in bed in the station manager's shack.
"How long has he been like this?" Hugh asked.
Matthew's eye
s were large and dark. "I dunno, Mr. Westbrook. We ain't seen him for a couple of days. We didn't think nothing of it. Thought maybe he'd gone Christmas visiting somewhere."
"Bill?" Hugh said. "Can you hear me?"
"Hugh, it's just a summer cold."
"May I?" Joanna said. She sat on the edge of the bed and studied Lovell's face. Then she felt his forehead, and the pulse at his neck.
Bill's eyes fluttered. "Hello, Miss Drury," he said thickly.
"Are you in pain?" she asked.
"Yes—in my gut."
"When did this start?"
"About a week ago ... headache, sore throat ..."
"Why didn't you tell someone?"
He smiled. "Thought it would go away."
"Just lie still, we'll take care of you."
They went outside. "It's outback fever," Hugh said. "I haven't seen a case of it in a long time, but I recognize the signs."
"I'm not so sure," Joanna said. "I seem to recall something ... I don't know. Normally, a fever is accompanied by a rapid heart rate. But Mr. Lovell's pulse is strangely slow. If only I could remember ..." And then she said, "I'm sure my mother's book has something about this."
She went to the cabin, and was back a moment later. "It happened when I was very young," she said, as she flipped the pages of the diary. "An epidemic of some sort at the cantonment where my father was stationed. My mother recorded it, and she remarked on the strange pulse—Here it is." Joanna read for a moment, then she handed the diary to Hugh.
"Mr. Lovell has the classic symptoms," Joanna said as Hugh read Lady Emily's account of the epidemic. "Symptoms such as those are not found in any other disease."
"Typhoid," Hugh said, closing the book. He turned to the stableboy and said, "Saddle up a horse. Find Dr. Ramsey. Tell him it's urgent. If he isn't at home, try Strathfield. He'll be attending the ball. And hurry!"
"If this really is typhoid," Hugh said to Joanna, "then we have a serious situation on our hands. And we will have to act quickly."
"Mr. Lovell's fever is high," Joanna said. "But I think it will go higher. I must try to bring it down."
While Joanna went back to the cabin for a basin of water and towels, Hugh removed his cape and top hat and draped them over the end of Bill's bed. He sat next to his friend and said, "What's this all about, mate?" lapsing into the accent of his boyhood. "Feeling lonely on Christmas, and wanting a bit of attention?"
Bill smiled, but he was clearly in pain.
Joanna returned and placed a cold wet towel on Bill's head. She and Hugh regarded each other across the bed. He saw the fear in her eyes, and a look on her face that seemed to be saying, I knew this was going to happen....
David Ramsey finally arrived, dressed in evening clothes. "Hello, Joanna. Well, Bill," he said, removing his top hat. "I'm told you're not feeling well. Let's take a look. Do you think you can hold this in your mouth?" Ramsey slipped a thermometer between Bill's lips, then he lifted up Bill's shirt and examined his abdomen. There were clusters of pink spots on the pale white skin. When Ramsey gently pressed down, Bill cried out. Finally he took the thermometer from Bill's mouth and read it by the light of the oil lamp.
"It's typhoid all right," he said as he and Hugh and Joanna went outside. "Jacko Jackson found Mr. Shapiro, the old peddler, dead in one of his fields. It looked as if he had had been crawling to get help."
"Do you think we might have a serous outbreak on our hands?" Hugh said.
"It's possible. I suggest we proceed as though we do."
"Tell us what to do."
"First, quarantine Bill. Don't let anyone near him, except for those who are taking care of him. No one knows what causes typhoid or how it is transmitted. But I am a believer in the new germ theory. Experiments with certain diseases have shown that isolating the infected victims can stem the spread of the disease. We don't know why exactly, but it seems to work."
"And what about Bill? Will he be all right?"
"There is no cure for typhoid. All we can do is make him comfortable and keep him fed and well hydrated. Above all, we must keep his fever down. If there are no complications, he should come out of it in of it in about two to three weeks. But I have to warn you—there are frequently complications with typhoid. One of them is pneumonia, the other is perforation of the intestines, which leads to peritonitis. And neither can be cured.
"You'll want to watch the rest of your men closely. Keep an eye out for headaches or backaches, loss of appetite. Abdominal pains follow soon after, with distention. Joanna, I will leave this thermometer with you. It's one of the new ones—it only takes three minutes. As for nursing the sick—"
"Don't worry, David. I know what needs to be done," she said. "It's here in my mother's book."
"We'd better get to work then," Hugh said. "I have a feeling that by tomorrow we are going to have more cases of typhoid than we can handle."
As Dr. Ramsey rode out of the yard, Ezekiel stepped out of the shadows, listening.
TEN
J
OANNA SAT UP THROUGH THE NIGHT WITH BILL LOVELL. AFTER Hugh and the stableboy had undressed him and wrapped him in a wet sheet, Joanna stayed with him, changing the wet cloths on his head, giving him sips of water and checking his temperature every half hour. One of the station hands, returning after midnight from an evening of Christmas celebrating at Facey's, remarked upon the impropriety of a girl sitting up with an undressed man. But when he saw the seriousness of Bill's condition, he made no further comment.
In the meantime, Hugh had changed from evening clothes into work clothes, and made a round of the district, stopping first at Facey's to collect men who were sober enough to ride. They went armed with information Joanna and Dr. Ramsey had provided: a list of the disease's symptoms, precautions to take to prevent it and how to take care of the victims should it strike. They fanned out over the countryside, stopping wherever there was habitation, rousing people and warning them of the possible outbreak of typhoid. Hugh went first to Strathfield, where the Christmas Eve ball was in progress, and spoke briefly to the gathered guests, advising them to go home; then he rode to Lismore, where he spoke to a startled Pauline. It was not until he was riding away from their brief visit that he realized she had not been dressed for the ball.
The dawning of Christmas morning saw twelve new cases of typhoid, two of them Merinda men.
The station hands were moved out of the bunkhouse, and Joanna supervised its conversion into a hospital. The mattresses were removed from the beds and distributed to the men who chose either to sleep outside or in the shearing shed. She warned them not to drink well water or river water, only boiled water, and that upon the first appearance of a symptom, they were to report to her. The bunk beds were covered with mattresses of sacking stuffed with eucalyptus leaves, which could be easily removed and burned, with fresh ones ready to go in their place. Buckets of quicklime were placed by the door, with which to wash down the walls and floors at regular intervals.
Bill Lovell was transferred to the bunkhouse, where Joanna could watch him along with the new cases. He was screened behind a curtain, and someone sat with him at all times.
And Sarah, who thought these precautions weren't enough—the disease seemed, after all, to have started at Merinda—gathered protective stones and feathers, and quietly placed them around the cabin.
Hugh returned at noon on Christmas Day, exhausted and hungry, but he refused to sleep until he had made sure all the homesteads had been warned.
"Maude Reed has the symptoms," he said as he ate. "Down near Mount Rouse I found an entire family sick with it. I left Stringy Larry there to help however he could. If it becomes an epidemic," he said, "we'll have to find some way to get food and water to all those people."
Joanna said, "You and your men should be all right if you wash your hands immediately after you leave an infected house. Don't eat or drink anything while you are there. According to my mother's diary, the physicians in India believe that typhoid is not carried on the
air or spread by a person's breath. If you follow precautions, you should be all right."
Before Hugh left again, he looked at Joanna and said, "Are you all right?"
"Yes."
"It isn't your fault, Joanna," he said quietly. "Things happen. And people can also have premonitions about them. But you aren't the cause of any of this. Promise me you'll take care of yourself and Adam."
Hugh rode off to the east, where small farms were spread over many miles, while Joanna appointed one of the station hands to organize the men into collecting eggs, and boiling and bottling water in case they were needed. Then she concentrated on taking care of her three patients, enlisting the help of the two stableboys.
Frank Downs came to Merinda to join Hugh in his rides around the district. They went with eggs and boiled milk, Joanna's willow tea, and instructions on caring for the sick. The families were spread over two thousand square miles, with only two medical doctors to serve them.
But Frank stopped first at a modest clapboard house that stood on a tree-lined street at the edge of Cameron Town.
During the Christmas Eve party at Finnegan's, Frank had watched other men try to give Ivy Dearborn expensive gifts, and Ivy had politely refused them. But when Frank had said to her, "Would you like to attend Midnight Mass with me tonight?" she had said, "Yes."
They had listened to the service, and sung the Christmas hymns, and then they had ridden through the countryside in his carriage. Frank had wanted more, but he knew not to press for it. He and Ivy had talked about cricket scores, and the Melbourne Cup race results, the weather, and the end at last of the Franco-Prussian War in Europe. And when he had returned her to the boardinghouse, and asked her if she would care to go on a picnic with him, she had accepted.
The picnic was planned for this weekend. But now everything had changed.
Frank pushed past the landlady, who said, "No gentleman callers, this is a respectable house," and took the stairs two at a time. He knocked on Ivy's door and began to speak before she had it all the way open. "There's been an outbreak of typhoid," he said. "I want you to stay here. Don't go to Finnegan's. Don't leave this house until the danger has passed."
