An Uncommon Woman

by Nicole Alexander

  ‘Oh do relax. I’m only teasing.’ Gloria gave a little ripple of laughter.

  The tips of Hamilton’s fingernails poked sharply against the material of his trousers into his thighs.

  The ringmaster, megaphone clutched in a gloved hand, was introducing and then sprouting the magnificent abilities of the three artists who were manning the swings overhead, much to the oohs and ahhs of the assembled crowd. Hamilton settled back to observe the whole sequin-spangled catastrophe that passed for the district’s yearly excitement, as the performers swung back and forth posing like attention-seeking children.

  On second thoughts, he was beginning to appreciate the theft of the lion cub, and as a silver-suited male tumbled through the air Hamilton begrudgingly thought he, too, would like to meet the young people who were leading the law on a merry chase. It was a prank of the highest order for, after all, what could they actually do with a lion? They couldn’t keep it or rear it, so obviously they intended to return it.

  Overhead, the woman of the trapeze troupe performed a half-twist mid-air. Misjudging the timing, she was caught one-handed by her companion on the opposite swing. For the barest of seconds she dangled like a small fish, scales glinting, before her saviour lunged for her other arm, pulling her to safety. The crowd watched in awed anticipation and then let out a collective gasp as the young woman shimmied to the floor with the aid of a thick rope.

  Hamilton found himself upright, clapping enthusiastically with everyone else.

  Chapter Eleven

  If not for the rising moon, the journey would have been more than difficult. In some places the scrub lined the track so densely it resembled a wall of tangled limbs, in others the land was sparse and empty, stretching endlessly away from them. They saw no other people as they rode through the bush, save for a slab cottage that served as an inn for travellers and drovers. Here they stopped. Assisting Edwina down from the horse, Will led the mare to a nearby trough. Sitting the bundled cub carefully on the ground he stretched his shoulders and back. A short distance away, men rolled out swags and settled around a camp fire, the lowing of cattle close by.

  ‘You’re travelling late.’ A man stepped from the shadows. ‘You and your missus should rest for the night.’ He scratched at a long beard. ‘Mrs Landry will take care of you,’ he said to Edwina. ‘She’s a tasty stew on the stove.’

  Edwina dearly would have loved something to eat and drink. She looked to Will, pleading with her eyes.

  ‘Thank you.’ Will’s reply was grateful. ‘But we’re making the most of the moon tonight.’ At his feet the sack began to move; the cub growled and Will coughed loudly to hide the sound.

  ‘Ah, yes.’ The stranger sighed, his gaze directed to the ring of trees bounding the inn and the brightening orb breasting the woody skyline. ‘Once overhead she’ll be a beauty. A real beauty. I’ve often said to Mrs Landry what a shameful thing it is to have this here inn sitting against the trees. Out on the flat it should be, so a man can see the moon a-rising the moment she shows herself. But I’ll content myself knowing that once I’ve bedded down for the night she’ll be shining her grace upon me.’

  Lifting her head from the trough, Heidi-Hoe nickered softly.

  ‘We should be going,’ Will answered, lifting the concealed lion and settling in the saddle. He extended a hand to Edwina. ‘Safe travels to you.’

  ‘And you, friend,’ replied the stranger.

  Edwina allowed herself to be pulled up onto the horse’s back. The lion cub gave a whine, half growl, half cat purr. ‘Come on, girl,’ Will petted Heidi-Hoe between her ears, ‘let’s go.’

  The camp fire and inn soon dwindled to nothingness.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ complained Edwina, her stomach rumbling.

  ‘My pockets are empty,’ apologised Will. ‘Besides, I think it best we keep moving, don’t you?’

  The cub was growing noisy. Edwina could hear the animal scratching and growling in the bag that held him. ‘I’m still hungry.’ She would be home by now, if not for Will’s tomfoolery. Home without the sordid memory of … but she wouldn’t think of that, not tonight, nor tomorrow.

  ‘Shush,’ Will soothed the baby animal. ‘Sleep now.’

  Gradually the cub settled. Their presence barely disturbed the wildlife. Rabbits and wallabies, fluttering quail and pigs all crossed their path, pausing only momentarily to gaze at the night-time intruders. Owls peered down from branches and night-birds twittered as unknown eyes glowed from among the bushes. Edwina thought of the snippets H.J. read from the circus program. Of jungles, deserts and frozen wastelands. Away from the crowds and activity, she imagined the animals of the menagerie prowling across the land and swaying through branches, hunting for prey. Exotic creatures let loose in a foreign world.

  ‘It’s a fine night,’ said Will.

  Edwina, her fingers clutching Will’s coat-tails, reluctantly agreed.

  ‘My mother says there is beauty in everything.’

  ‘And where is your mother?’ asked Edwina out of politeness.

  ‘In the slums.’ Will was hesitant. ‘Sydney. I was ten when I last saw her. She wouldn’t leave the city when my father purchased the soldier settler’s block.’

  ‘Is she still alive?’

  ‘I suppose so. She’s a fine woman. Did her best for me and the rest of the family. Made sure we all ate every day. But I guess that’s something you never had to worry about?’

  Heidi-Hoe walked steadily onwards. Edwina wanted to hate this man, whose actions had so impacted on her, but at the same time she was beholden to Will for escorting her home.

  They entered a patch of thick timber, the moonlight momentarily fading to an eerie wanness.

  ‘Look at that,’ said Will, as Heidi-Hoe carried them free of the woody plants.

  They watched as the moon reappeared again above a distant tree line, large and luminous. The great sphere was their lantern, highlighting the road with its rutted wagon tracks and blanketing the land in a soft white glow.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Edwina.

  ‘Yes,’ said Will softly. ‘When I first came out to the bush, I’d never seen such a thing. I was …’

  ‘You were what?’

  ‘Scared of it,’ admitted Will. ‘Oh, I’d seen it big and white. In Sydney whenever there was a full moon the light would shine through the timber slats into my room, but I never saw it like this until I came to the bush. It’s different here.’ He paused. ‘It fills a person up with its brightness.’

  The mare plodded on, encouraged by Will’s intermittent whispers, and Edwina grew sleepy with the rhythmic gait of the horse. The bundle of fur between them was now rearranged so that the sleeping cub lay cocooned on Will’s lap, and more than once Edwina jolted awake to find her cheek against the breadth of Will’s back. Twice Will reached around to stop her falling when sleep claimed her, pulling Edwina closer and placing her hands firmly on his waist. ‘Don’t,’ she’d said on both occasions, uncomfortable at the intimacy of his touch.

  ‘I won’t bite, miss,’ he stated, ‘and it is best you hold on.’

  Edwina breathed in hay and soil, wool and the faint scent of perspiration as her skin rested against the cloth of Will’s jacket. The next time Will’s steadying hand reached for her, Edwina didn’t pull free.

  The track divided into two and Will took the road to the left. Everything would be fine, Edwina decided, now they were on the final home leg. As long as she never thought about the attack. And it would be doubly fine, Edwina convinced herself, for their father was in Wywanna and there was only Aiden to contend with once they reached the house. She had done what she set out to do after all. Timing and difficulties aside, she had seen the petting zoo and returned home. And she had met a man. Mason. A handsome man she’d not likely forget. Edwina peered over Will’s shoulder. ‘It’s not far now.’ Through the timber she saw the homestead and the glimmer of whitewashed sheds circling around the house. She gave a silent prayer.

  ‘What will you tell yo
ur brother?’

  ‘Not the truth,’ replied Edwina.

  The cub made a mewling noise. ‘You won’t tell him about the lion, will you?’

  Common sense said that was exactly what Edwina should do.

  ‘I mean he’s only here because I was helping you,’ argued Will.

  Edwina gave a choked reply. ‘Helping me? You’re helping me because of the mess you got us both into.’

  ‘You chose to be the busybody, miss. Anyway, you agreed to give me work.’

  Who did this person think he was? Why, he couldn’t be much older than her, Edwina decided. ‘You won’t be able to stay long,’ she told him firmly. ‘A week at best. I mean, everyone will be looking for that baby lion. And if they find you here –’

  ‘I understand,’ said Will stiffly. ‘I won’t get you into any trouble. Anyway, the circus will be packed up and headed out of town come morning, so I don’t think you need to fear them.’

  ‘And what about the lion? I mean, what are you going to do with it?’ asked Edwina. ‘You certainly can’t keep it. Once it grows up it will be dangerous. You do realise that?’

  ‘They can be trained,’ answered Will.

  Edwina gave a sharp laugh. ‘Like a pet? You must be joking. Where on earth would you keep it?’

  ‘I haven’t worked that out yet, but I will. Anyway, it’s not your problem, is it? I’ll be gone in a week and the lion cub will be too.’

  Heidi-Hoe plodded onwards as the rutted track wound past the silvery grey trunks of gum trees. The homestead was suffused in moonlight, the orchard and leaf-laden roof transformed by the shiny gleam that encircled the buildings. The mare trotted a little faster over the dirt track. A weak light beckoned from a window. The dogs barked on their approach and rushed out to greet them, at first with uneasy growls and then wagging tails on recognition. The lamp in the window disappeared and a second later Aiden was at the front door.

  ‘Where have you been, Edwina?’ Setting the lantern on the veranda, Aiden moved quickly, his hand on Heidi-Hoe’s reins. ‘Will? What in heaven’s name?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ replied Edwina flippantly, as Davidson appeared from the dark, a rifle in his hand.

  ‘It’s past ten o’clock,’ countered Aiden angrily. ‘I get home and there’s no fire lit, no food, the place in darkness. Where on earth have you been? What happened?’

  ‘So, were you concerned for me, little brother, or your stomach?’

  Swinging his leg across the mare’s back, Will jumped from the horse, the cub already slung behind his back so it was hidden from view. He helped Edwina down, his grip lingering on her waist. ‘Miss Edwina asked me to escort her home, it being dark and all.’

  Aiden, clearly baffled, turned from his sister to Will. ‘Home from where?’

  ‘The circus,’ replied Edwina. ‘I wanted to see the menagerie.’

  ‘The menagerie? You wanted to see the menagerie? And you went by yourself,’ Aiden’s voice rose, ‘unchaperoned, dressed like that?’

  Edwina fidgeted with the jacket she wore, hastily buttoning it so that the damaged shirt and waistcoat were not so obvious. ‘And how was your trip in Father’s buggy?’

  Aiden scowled. ‘You look a mess, Edwina. An absolute mess.’ Brother and sister stared defiantly at each other. ‘I appreciate you going out of your way, Will. And I’m sorry if my sister inconvenienced you.’

  ‘No problem, Mr Aiden. But I could use a job. Just for a week or so. Food and shelter is all I’m asking for. I had something lined up but then I had to help your sister.’

  Edwina opened her mouth to retaliate, stopping immediately when she noticed the dogs. One by one they approached Will, snuffling at his trousers and boots, lifting their heads with interest at the bulging bag. Will kept his back close to the mare as Aiden whistled the canines to his side. The dogs moved away reluctantly. Davidson cocked his head to one side. He knew, Edwina realised. The stockman guessed that all was not right, that Will concealed something.

  ‘Of course, Will,’ replied Aiden, ‘and again I’m sorry if Edwina has put you out. Davidson will show you to the stables. You can bed down there for the night.’

  Taking Heidi-Hoe’s reins, Davidson led Will around the side of the house.

  ‘And what do you have to say for yourself, Edwina?’ Aiden pursued her indoors.

  Taking a lantern from the hall table, Edwina turned briefly to her brother. ‘I’m tired,’ she replied. ‘Goodnight.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Hamilton tethered the horse to a tree limb, then walked down to the creek. The homestead was only a mile or so away but the waterway provided a calming place in which to stop and think. This silent time was invaluable, allowing a transition of sorts between Wywanna and the farm. Quite often it was as if he led two lives and the only way he could connect both worlds was here, in this bridging space, a no-man’s-land of sludge-brown water surrounded by bush and timber. He’d seen Davidson ride in this direction some years ago and made a point of following the aboriginal. It was probably the only time their roles were reversed, so self-absorbed was the stockman. By the time Hamilton reached the water his man was gone, the splash of the crossing an echo and bird flutter the only sign of a presence.

  Hamilton hadn’t bothered following any further that day. Who knew where the stockman went when time was his own? Besides, across the muddy-bottomed creek and beyond the twisted roots of the old trees lining the bank was a thick wall of prickly pear. Useless country that didn’t entice. The black man could have it. But the loneliness of the spot, the giant roots of trees bordering the narrow stream, the rustle of critters moving about in the grass – that’s what drew him. And like a lover starved of an embrace, it was the solitude Hamilton craved for, the solitude of the area, returning whenever time permitted.

  The chance to sit on a fallen log as he did now, to draw aimlessly with a stick in the dirt, this was the simplest of pleasures. Birds were calling out, stretching their wings as they took to the air, while kangaroos grazed. The creek fascinated, with its varying width and tree-shaded shallows. Further downstream it grew large and generous but here it was narrow, as if the earth refused to yield to the water’s force and the carving of a deeper passage. If he could stay here, if the hours could be stretched out into one long day, then Hamilton knew he’d be a happy man. It was tiring, this business of continued advancement. But life demanded money and he could never have enough of it.

  Hamilton flicked at ants with the stick. In his great-grandfather’s time, there’d been a grand house in London and another in Sydney. Dinners with Governor Macquarie and an audience with the Queen. There was even talk of a peerage, such was his great-grandfather’s contribution to the colony. But through stupidity they’d lost it all. Lost the wealth and the prestige. Three generations on and Hamilton gained scant purchase from a direct blood association with the man who’d once sat on the board of the Australian Agricultural Company. Occasionally, this distant link could provide a useful, if brief, entrée to a world lost to him, but invariably it was the likes of Peter Worth who made use of the connection, as if by mentioning it the acquaintance could be justified.

  Further along the creek, on the opposite side, partially concealed by trees, a girl appeared to squat in the muddy creek, washing herself. Hamilton gazed at her through the drooping timber. He’d not heard her approach and she was clearly unaware of his presence. Dark-skinned, the young woman cupped water, cleaning her face, the liquid streaming down to wet the shift she wore. She was pretty, with roughly cut shoulder-length hair and the type of body built for purpose. They were not like white women, these girls. They were scavengers, hunters and gatherers, inordinately suited to the wilds. Hamilton could appreciate a disposition tending to survival.

  A wail, high-pitched, carried across the breadth of the waterway. The sound ripping through the stillness caused startled birds to fly from nearby shrubbery and sent the lolling kangaroos bounding into the surrounding bush. The piccaninny lay on the creek ban
k screaming, its plump legs pumping the air in fury.

  Hamilton watched fascinated, conscious of his intrusion. They were natives, it was true, but there was something about the simplicity of the scene that he found quite entrancing. As he observed the girl, she removed her dress, a shapeless piece of material that covered a tempting body. Large-breasted with a small waist and fertile hips and thighs, she dunked the gown in the water. Hamilton watched the young woman’s round backside as it bobbed up and down. It was a half-hearted attempt at washing and she lay the dress on the sand to dry, before returning to the water to wash herself more thoroughly. She used handfuls of mud as soap, scooping up the sandy creek and scrubbing harshly at her wet skin, as the baby continued to cry.

  Eventually the young woman left the water and, ignoring the baby, lay down on the bank, her breasts falling sideways, legs spread comfortably across the sand. Once or twice she glanced at the mewling child, before sitting upright, her face wet with tears. Hamilton wondered what she contemplated. Whether the child was hers and who the father was and what they were doing on his land. Where they’d come from. The young woman was very upset. There was no smile for the baby, who’d now cried itself out; instead she stared at the child and sobbed.

  He didn’t want natives sneaking about on his land. Particularly natives like this one. The girl couldn’t be more than fifteen years of age. By rights she should be in a home or have been adopted out to a white family. It was for their own good, after all. The full-bloods would die out eventually and the old ways would go with them. It was vital that mixed-blood children be integrated into white society; otherwise what good could they possibly be to anyone. The government said as much and Hamilton certainly didn’t want to fall foul of the law.

  The girl picked up the baby and, walking straight into the middle of the creek, stood quietly as the water ebbed at her thighs. The child was paler than its mother and lulled to quiet. A long wound marked the side of the girl’s face, stretching from temple to chin, but the ugly injury was forgotten as the young woman, still weeping, tenderly touched the baby’s head. Combined with the girl’s sadness, Hamilton found her affection for the child captivating.