by Barbara Wood
"I've been out working the far paddocks. What's the trouble?"
"My mob's been infected with the scab. I won't have a wool clip this year."
Hugh was stunned. He knew Jacko had been struggling to make a go of his run; such a loss could mean his ruin. And Jacko had six kids, with a seventh on the way. "I'm sorry," Hugh said. "I didn't know."
"I'd swear it's that bastard MacGregor behind it," Jacko said as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his sweating face. "He's been after my run for a long time. I'd lay odds that he got some bad sheep mixed in with my mob somehow. Remember Rob Jones, who used to have the run the other side of me? It was MacGregor who saw that he went bankrupt. I can't prove it, but Rob sold to MacGregor and now that bastard wants my run as well."
"But what makes you think Colin MacGregor's behind it?"
"Because he sent his agent to me with an offer of a loan. It's obvious what he's up to, Hugh. If I accept his money, and then something happens next year and I still have no clip, he'll take my station."
Hugh looked into Jacko's broad, honest face and felt like swearing. He thought of how Colin MacGregor had changed in the year since the death of his wife and unborn child. He seemed to have become consumed with hate and vengeance. And with greed—he was buying up all the land in the district, using ruthless tactics if necessary. It was as if he had abandoned all conscience and ethics, and the other graziers were starting to raise eyebrows. Hugh suspected MacGregor had his eye on Merinda.
"I don't like to see any man driven off his land, Jacko," Hugh said. "Tell MacGregor's agent you don't want his deal. I'll lend you the money."
Jacko stared at him. "You'd do that, Hugh? Can you?"
Hugh thought of the house they were about to start building, and the expensive new stud ram he wanted to bring in, the wells he wanted to drill. And now ... a baby on the way. But he had inspected his sheep and it looked as if this year's clip was going to be good. "Don't worry, Jacko," he said. "I'll manage something. And come shearing time next year, you'll be taking wool to Melbourne with the rest of us."
As Jacko rode away, Hugh went up the veranda steps and into the cool interior of the cabin. Joanna was not there, but her hat and shopping basket lay on the table, along with the weekly newspapers and journals she always picked up for him.
When he went back outside, he saw someone else riding into the yard, a young man named Tim Forbes, who hired himself out as a delivery boy and messenger in Cameron Town. He had been riding hard; Hugh saw the postal sack on the back of the horse. "Special parcel for you, Mr. Westbrook!" he said. "Here y'are. Gotta have ya sign for it."
Hugh signed, and was handed a square box, wrapped in brown paper and twine. He looked at the parcel and saw that it was addressed to Joanna. The sender was the lawyer in Bombay who sent her quarterly allowance to her. He hurried down to the river, where he found Joanna near the Aboriginal ruins with Adam and Sarah, and the architect from Melbourne.
"Daddy!" Adam cried, running to Hugh. Then, "What's that?"
"It's something for your mother. Hello, Mr. McNeal," he said, as they shook hands. "I see you found us all right."
"Your wife and have I just been discussing the site for the new house."
"Before you say anything further, Mr. McNeal," Hugh said as he slipped his arm around Joanna's waist, "I want to tell you that when you and I met over a year ago, I had said that I wanted something American, southern plantation style you called it, with columns and gables. We've changed our minds. My wife and I want our house to be Australian, suited to this climate and environment. We don't want a house that tells people where we've come from or where we'd rather be, but where we are."
When he saw McNeal frown, he said, "What's wrong?"
"Hugh," Joanna said. "There's a problem."
When she had explained about the sacred site, Hugh said, "But this is the only place we can put the house. There's a solid rock foundation here, good drainage and no threats if the river flooded."
"But this is a Dreaming site," Joanna said. "It's sacred."
"But Joanna, the Aborigines don't live here any more. They don't even come around here. They've forgotten this place, Joanna. They're forgetting all their Dreaming sites. And we have to build our house somewhere. We can't go on living in the cabin."
When he saw the distressed look on her face, he turned to Philip McNeal and said, "What do you think?"
"I don't know, Mr. Westbrook. It's possible that an alternate site might be found. I'll have to do some soil testing, see where you've got sand, where you've got clay, check the water levels, that sort of thing. If you're not set on the American-style house, then it's possible I can design something that will solve the problem." He smiled. "It's a challenge, but that's what I like. If you don't mind, I'll look around some more."
"Of course."
McNeal struck off through the trees, back toward the river, and after hesitating a moment, Sarah and Adam followed.
"Hugh," Joanna said, "where did the parcel come from?"
He turned to her with an anxious look. "What did Poll Gramercy say?"
"How did you know I went to see Mrs. Gramercy! Oh Hugh, I wanted it to be a surprise."
"Believe me, Joanna, I'm surprised. What did she say?"
"Mrs. Gramercy confirmed it. We're going to have a baby."
Hugh took her into his arms and kissed her. "What do you want it to be, a boy or a girl?" he asked.
"I hope it's a son for you," Joanna said. "But I'm wishing for a daughter. I've always wanted a little girl."
"I fancy a girl, too. I never had sisters, I never knew my mother. I've always thought how nice it would be to have a daughter."
He kissed her again and held her close, this marvel of a woman who had come so unexpectedly into his life a year and a half ago and turned it around. He thought of the ballad that he was writing, inspired two Christmasses ago: "She traversed the great swelled seas/To this golden land ..." It was the longest ballad he had ever written, it was nearly finished, and now suddenly, the title came to him: "The Dreaming—For Joanna."
"Tim Forbes just brought this for you," Hugh said as he handed her the parcel. "It came by special post."
"It's from Mr. Drexler," she said in surprise, and began to work at the twine and sealing wax.
"And now for my news," Hugh said. "Joanna, do you remember my telling you about a man I met in Melbourne, when I took the last clip to the harbor? A man named Finch?"
Joanna searched her memory, then she remembered: Back in November, Hugh had spoken about meeting a Mr. Finch, who owned a special kind of ram. It came from a French strain, Hugh had explained, called a rambouillet, and it possessed the characteristics he had been looking for to crossbreed with his merino ewes in the hope of finding a strain of sheep robust enough to suit the arid plains of Queensland. But the ram had not been for sale.
"I got a telegram from Finch today. He has decided to go back to England, and he's offering to sell me the ram," Hugh said. "It's a magnificent animal, Joanna, big and rugged, with a deep frame and long-stapled wool. Finch said it yields a fleece weighing twenty-five pounds of unwashed wool. Think of it, Joanna. If I can combine the best characteristics of that ram with my best merino ewes, then we could be well on our way to creating a breed that can be run all over Queensland and New South Wales! I've dreamed for so long of creating a new breed that now that I almost have it in my hands, I can't let it get away."
"Of course not!" she said, feeling his excitement. "How soon can we have it?"
"I'll have to leave for Melbourne at once. Finch has given me first chance at it, but there will be other buyers." He fell silent and looked at her. "So," he said, "we're going to have a baby." He laughed. "A fine thing, a man learning about his wife's pregnancy from another man."
"Whoever wrapped this parcel," she said, trying to break the string, "never intended for it to be opened."
"What do you suppose Drexler has sent you?"
"I can't imagine. And it cost him a lo
t for the special handling. Look at these stamps." Other than the quarterly check that came from Drexler's Bombay office, Joanna received no communication from the lawyer. But she did expect to hear from him in a year, when she turned twenty-one and came into her full inheritance.
"Oh, Hugh," she said, remembering Lathrop's letter and reaching into the pocket of her skirt. "This came today, from Patrick Lathrop—the man mentioned in my mother's diary."
While Joanna persisted with the uncooperative twine, Hugh opened the letter and read: "My dear Miss Drury, I write to you in response to your several communications to me. Forgive the lateness of my reply, but I have been away. As I travel a great deal, my permanent address in California is here at the Regent Hotel. I can always be reached through Mrs. Robbins, the proprietor, should the need arise.
"Yes, I was a classmate of your grandfather's at Christ's College in Cambridge, during the years of 1826-1829. We were both there to prepare for Holy Orders in the Church of England. I recall John and his bride well. I was the best man at their wedding! Naomi so sweet and so much in love. John so zealous and anxious to get on with his work. But he did not go to Australia as a missionary, Miss Drury. And his papers are most assuredly not sermons."
"Not sermons," Hugh said. "Then what are they, I wonder?"
He continued to read. "John never finished his schooling at Cambridge," Lathrop wrote, "having discovered that he had no taste for the religious life. In fact, I rather suspected your grandfather was something of an agnostic, although he never admitted it. Rather than preaching the Bible, he was far more interested in proving it. And as I recall, he was particularly interested in the account of Eden.
"He had a theory that God, being disappointed in Adam and Eve, decided to create a second Eden in another part of the world. John believed he would find that second Eden in Australia. When he read accounts of a primitive people being found at the Sydney Settlement, people who did not read or write, who knew not the wheel, who went about unclothed, and who did not even grow their own food, he had thought this was the second Eden, from which the original parents had not been expelled. John's theory was based on the fact that the Australian Aborigines fear and revere the serpent, and that therefore they would not have been tempted by it to eat from the forbidden Tree of Knowledge. I do not know if John was ever able to prove his theory.
"You wrote of your grandfather's papers, Miss Drury. Perhaps they are his observations of the people he studied."
Hugh turned to the second page. "You say that they seem to be written in a kind of code," Lathrop wrote. "Several of us used shorthand of one sort or another for taking notes during lectures. I had my own system, invented by myself and not very good. I recall that your grandfather's was very efficient. Perhaps if you sent me a sample of it, I could translate it for you.
"I regret, Miss Drury, that I am unable to supply you with the more precise information which you requested in your letter—specifically, where in Australia your grandparents traveled to. But I do recall one fact that might be of some help. I saw them off on the day they sailed, forty-three years ago, in 1830. I remember that their vessel had a rather exotic name. The name itself I cannot call to mind, but I do remember that it was some sort of mythical beast. Alas, I cannot recall their port of disembarkation, but perhaps if you can identify their ship, you can determine where they went ashore."
"Mythical beast!" Hugh said.
"Perhaps a unicorn," Joanna said. "Or a sea serpent. Hugh, there must be records somewhere of ships arriving at Melbourne or Sydney. I'll go to Melbourne with you," she said. "We'll search the records for a ship with this kind of a name."
"I'll ask Frank Downs to help us. He has friends all over the city."
"Hugh, I simply cannot get this package open."
"Here, let me try." He broke the twine, peeled away the paper and wax, and handed the box back to Joanna. Inside, she found a smaller box nested in straw, with a letter on top.
She read the letter, then said, "Oh, Hugh! I'm to receive my inheritance now! Mr. Drexler says that since I am married I don't have to wait until my next birthday. And it's such a large amount. What shall we do with it?"
"It's your money, Joanna. Your parents meant for you to have it. What do you want to do with it?"
She thought a moment, and said, "I'd like to use it in my search for Karra Karra. My mother would have used it for that purpose. And the rest of it I would like to put away for our daughter, for her future."
"What's in the box?"
"I don't know, Mr. Drexler says only that it is something my parents placed in his safekeeping. He says he doesn't know what its value is, but that he suspects it might be considerable."
Joanna lifted the smaller box out and removed the lid. She stared for a moment at the contents. Then she brought it out and showed it to Hugh.
When he saw the gemstone that nearly filled the palm of her hand, he said, "It's an opal—a fire opal. You can tell by the way the red flashes seem to follow the sun when you turn your hand. Fire opals are very rare, Joanna, and quite valuable."
Joanna was mesmerized by the stone. It was about as large as an orange slice, irregularly shaped, and the colors were dazzling: Set in a wine-yellow sea were vivid green and red flames that danced like fire, and which did indeed, as Hugh said, seem to follow the sun when the stone was turned. "It's beautiful!" she said. "Where do you suppose my parents got it? Could it have come from Australia?"
"I've heard of opals being found in New South Wales, but nothing like this. It might have come from Mexico, that's where the big opal mines are."
"The flames in the center appear to be moving. And the colors, Hugh! What makes it do that?"
"I don't know."
"It feels warm. Here." She placed it in his hand.
He shook his head. "I don't feel anything. It just feels like a rock." He gave it back to her. "You didn't know your parents had this?"
"I don't recall them ever mentioning it," Joanna said as she stared at the flashing red heart of the opal. She couldn't take her eyes from it.
Philip McNeal appeared then, with Sarah following a short distance behind, holding Adam by the hand. "I think I've found a solution to your problem, Mr. Westbrook," he said. "The soil looks good over there. What we can do is sink deep footings, about five or six feet below the level of the river, and pack them with concrete. We can raise the foundation of the house and reinforce it with a concrete bunker. If you still have trouble when the river floods, we can take care of it with a coffer dam. But I'm afraid it's going to be costly, and it will take a lot longer to build. However, if you're still interested, I think I've found the site for it, if you would care to come with me and take a look." He turned to Joanna and added with a smile, "I know it's all right to build there, Mrs. Westbrook, because I walked all over it and Sarah didn't say a word."
As Joanna and Sarah walked in silence to the homestead, Sarah turned and looked back at Philip McNeal.
THIRTEEN
Y
OUR OLD ADVERSARY VILMA TODD HAS BEEN SEEN RIDING WITH Colin MacGregor," Louisa Hamilton said as she watched Pauline take aim at the distant target and let loose her arrow.
Bull's-eye.
"Indeed?" Pauline said as she reached into her quiver, drew out another arrow, nocked it on the bowstring, took careful aim and let fly. Another bull's-eye.
"Well done, Pauline!" Louisa said. "That gives you six hits at thirty yards, the record score for the Western District Archery Club!"
Pauline was shooting on the private archery range at Lismore, while Louisa watched, sitting on a chair beneath an umbrella, sipping lemonade. "It must be wonderful," she said, "to be so skilled. I do envy you." Pauline cast a glance at her friend. Pauline knew that Louisa had always envied her; but that envy had of late been tempered with a tinge of gloating. The whole district seemed to be infected with it. Pauline knew what her friends thought of her: that she had been passed over for a nursemaid! It didn't matter that both Pauline and Hugh had told everyon
e that it was Pauline, not Hugh, who had called off the wedding. And it didn't matter that Joanna Drury hadn't in fact been a nursemaid but rather the daughter of a knight. Pauline's reputation had suffered.
"What was I saying?" Louisa said. "Oh yes, Vilma Todd and Colin MacGregor. They've been seen on four separate occasions. People are speculating on the possibility of their getting married."
"Is that so?" Pauline said, as she waited for the groom to remove the arrows from the target. She had already heard about Vilma Todd and Colin MacGregor, and it didn't worry her. Nor did it worry her that several young ladies in the district, younger than herself, had set their sights on the handsome and eligible Colin, now that the customary year of mourning for Christina was over. Neither was Pauline concerned with the fact that despite her own carefully planned campaign to win Colin MacGregor, he had, for his own reasons, rejected her. She would have him in the end. She was determined.
When the target was clear, Pauline took out another arrow, raised her longbow, sighted down the shaft and let go. This time the arrow went slightly off the mark.
She sensed her friend's smile from beneath the shade of the umbrella. Ever since Hugh had married Joanna Drury, a slight air of superiority had crept into Louisa's attitude, but Pauline chose to ignore it. Let Louisa and the rest of the district think what they liked, Pauline thought as she drew out another arrow and loosed it on the target, ninety feet away, hitting another bull's-eye. They would not remain smug for long. What they didn't know, and what her young and pretty competitors for MacGregor did not know, was that Pauline held a secret card, one that should assure her of victory.
She knew two things about Colin that no one else knew. The first was that he would never love anyone again. She had been in the room with him the night Christina died, and she had seen what the tearing away of her life had done to him. The other girls in the district might delude themselves into thinking they could get Colin to fall in love with them, but Pauline knew that he would never allow himself to love another woman. And Pauline had another advantage: She, too, would never love again. And so it would suit her if Colin did not fall in love with her. She wanted only his name, his wealth, the position of a wife and, like Colin himself, children.
