by Darry Fraser
Ard stared at his boots, scuffed the dirt underfoot. ‘I know a boat captain, a Mr Egge. He’s going to retire in Wentworth. If he hasn’t got work, he’ll know someone who has.’
‘And when the work dries up, what then?’
‘I’ll find someone who’s got some land and wants to grow fruit and vegetables. I’ll rent land. I’ll get chickens and maybe a cow. I’ve heard the army’s looking for horses all the time. Maybe I’ll breed horses.’
‘Good plan. I like the sound of breeding horses.’
Ard looked at him. ‘You know anything about it?’
James shook his head. ‘Sadly, no. That means the adventure’s all yours.’ He stood up. ‘I’d better get along. I have to catch the train today. Reckon you’ll be right?’
‘James. Mr Anderson.’ Ard got to his feet and tossed his untouched tea. ‘I need to find Linley. I need to find her real bad.’
James nodded. A frown creased his brow. ‘Understand you do. Let me find out if she wants to be found, first.’ He took a slow breath. ‘And I don’t believe you’ve written me a letter to take to her.’ Ard’s jaw worked. He clenched his mouth shut as the surge roiled up from his guts. ‘A letter won’t be good enough,’ he said between his teeth.
James gave a little laugh. ‘Steady on, lad.’ His tone was soft, but stern. ‘You’ve had a nasty couple of days, not much sleep or food.’
‘I’ll come with you. To see Linley.’
‘No.’ The frown deepened. ‘You will not.’
‘I have to—’
James stepped close to Ard. ‘Listen to me,’ he said quietly. ‘I have left CeeCee and Linley vulnerable these last weeks and I will not do that again. I will protect my family from anyone and anything.’ His voice was clear, low. ‘Do you understand me? From anyone.’
Ard waited a beat, sure that he did not want to tackle James, but stood his ground. ‘I’m not a—’
‘You are, lad. A threat. To my peace of mind about this.’ James took a breath, then stepped back. ‘I have a train to catch and business to attend.’ He turned for the horses.
Ard stared at his back. ‘I know the only train today departs for Echuca.’
James shot a look over his shoulder, his face grim. ‘Do not get on that train.’
‘It’s just …’ Ard dropped his shoulders, rolled them back and forth. ‘I found out she has my …’
After a moment James prompted, ‘She has your …?’
‘Son. Linley has my son.’
They rode back into town. If James moved quickly, he’d make the train departure. It wouldn’t serve any purpose to linger in Bendigo. He’d already transferred funds to CeeCee the day before. He might as well travel to Echuca and withdraw more from his account directly.
At the telegraph office he sent a message to Bill Jenkins, his hired help in Echuca. Bill would pick him up from the station. Three days had already passed, and he’d not got any word to CeeCee. Now, armed with Ard’s revelation, he needed to get to both the women. He needed to ensure they were indeed safe.
He hadn’t told Ard of Linley’s whereabouts. Ard hadn’t penned a letter and didn’t want James to deliver a verbal message to her. He had accompanied James to the station then took the reins of James’ rented horse to return it. The lad had hesitated only for a moment before giving a short ‘goodbye’ and riding off.
James bought his ticket and embarked. Time had been against him to change clothes, so he found a seat in a back carriage, hopeful nobody would wish to share. His clothes reeked of burned and smoking orchard.
The whistle blew a shriek and the train lurched and scraped and ground forward. Then it stopped, screeching to a shuddering halt before it left the station. He heard the frustrated yell, ‘Hurry up and get on board, man,’ no doubt bellowed by the driver or the porter.
Moments later, the whistle blew again and the dissipating steam of it flicked high above James’ window. Bendigo receded. He leaned back, closed his eyes. Thoughts drifted.
Last night had been long and fraught, and though he’d slept, it was lightly, fearing the worst, late at night, with a flare-up in the orchard. He was aware at times that Ard tossed uneasily on his pallet across the small room of the hut.
The charred wood smoke still in his clothes, James dozed fitfully. Not even the swaying and chuffing of the train lulled him into a deeper sleep. CeeCee was on his mind. He hoped she had found a doctor to attend her, heal her battered body.
Timing had diverted him from his plan to exact retribution on Gareth Wilkin. In due course, he would revisit that. The man would not live out his days into old age.
I promise you, CeeCee.
His pledge jolted him. He would have to stop his work, after this one last time, otherwise his promise was an empty one, a lie. But he had to keep CeeCee safe, her niece secure.
He’d stop. Step up his campaign to marry CeeCee and bring her to Melbourne. There as a married couple, they could move their philanthropy forward and drive their message harder. Finish dealing violently with these men.
I promise you, CeeCee …
He’d slept. Checking the passing terrain, he thought he’d maybe slept an hour. He stood up, stretched, shook off the heavy nap-induced fog in his head and stared out the window.
Need to take a piss. Elmore station can’t be much further up the track.
Twenty-Eight
Bendigo
Last night Gareth hadn’t thought twice about the copper’s warning. But now he jolted awake. Why hadn’t he been arrested? Copper knew he’d torched those places. What was he letting him go for? Why did he warn him off? Was something out there waiting for him? Or someone?
He jumped. Wassat?
Scratch of rats across the boards of the floor. Birds landed on the roof, claws clack-clacking. Horses’ hooves in the street. Street brats, were they staring in the window? Shape-shifting monsters in the shadows of the room …
He blinked hard to clear his sight, his eyes squelchy.
Get out of here. Get the train. Get to my sister. She’s not gonna be happy, but she’s kin. Has to look after me. If anyone knows what to do about these burns, Esther will.
Lay low for a while. Get healed up then get the brat back, get the money that’s mine from that dead bitch slut, the money from the old dead bitch dragon aunt.
Dunno how, but I will.
Get to the train. Get to my sister.
He almost missed the train. It was pulling out by the time he’d staggered onto the platform. The idiot at the ticket office had to be convinced he wasn’t drunk.
The porter flagged the train to a halt before it got up too much steam, and he pulled open the door on the first cabin. Gareth stepped aboard. The yells of the driver rang in his head but he only thought about yelling back; his energy had gone.
He lurched into the seat. Good. Cabin’s empty. Don’t need some brat of a kid staring at me, holding his nose and bawling that I stink.
He was used to it. But today he hurt, he stank worse than normal and he reckoned he would look like a corpse.
Don’t need no kid giving any lip.
The cool leather seats didn’t afford much comfort for long. The constant shuddering of the train chafed the weepy patches on his skin. It felt like the newly healed ones had broken open at his neck and the deep sting from loosening scabs made him woozy.
He felt in his pocket for the old flask, took it out and shook it—ah, a drop of tea left. Cold by now, but no matter. He turned the lid, upended it over his mouth and let the dribble of liquid slide down his throat.
Better than nothing.
Now, Echuca. If only he could remember how to get to his sister’s.
The train slowed at Elmore. James only had time to alight, visit the gentlemen’s rooms and reboard.
Every cabin seemed to have passengers disembark. One or two compartments remained closed as he passed by back to his own cabin. A few more folk looked ready to embark from Elmore, either on their way to Rochester or to Echuca at the end
of the line. The train must nearly be full.
As he pulled the door open to his cabin and stepped inside, he was greeted by another man already seated there.
‘Morning.’
James nodded and took his seat. ‘Morning.’
‘Hope I’m not intruding.’ The man pointed at James’ hold-all, clearly there before him. ‘A carriage further down had a vacant seat but it didn’t smell too good in there. The sole occupant looked like he’d had a run-in with a smithy’s forge.’
James stared at the man for some moments, then shook himself out of his thoughts. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said. ‘I was miles away. Of course I don’t mind. Who’d have thought the train to be full?’
The other man nodded and slid his stocky frame along the seat towards the door. He drew his hat down over his face and cut any further conversation.
It suited James. He stared out the window, and watched the station buildings disappear from sight. The train chugged on, cut through the plains country, flat and scrubby.
He was sure the little bastard was on this very train.
Twenty-Nine
Bendigo
Ard O’Rourke knew he should wait, at least for his uncle Liam’s reply telegram. His father’s would take longer, even if his answer came via Liam in Swan Hill.
He should wait. Not tear off like some madman …
He paced outside the telegraph office, looking up at the sun. Near midday, he reckoned. The train would be halfway to Echuca by now.
He was nearly out of money, and his family’s credit was thinning. So why stay in Bendigo? Wasn’t like he had to keep the orchard secure. Anything worth a penny had all gone up in smoke.
He steered his thoughts away. He could rebuild, though … if he put aside all other ideas. Ideas about finding Linley.
There’d be more than enough to do. There was nothing much left in the house. Only a few bits of furniture remained. His mother’s kitchen table was a prized possession, he knew, built for her by his father. It had been stored in the shed, untouched by the flames. Apart from that, his parents had taken anything valuable with them to Renmark.
He paced some more. He’d need to build everything from scratch. The fences. A new stable. Maybe a verandah for the hut.
All I have to do is make a decision. Think, man. Think.
To stay or to leave.
Stay. Rebuild the orchard, start to clear it. Use the farm horses and the old dray, thankfully saved by the Chinamen, to scrape the dead trees and branches … He would have to wait before he could start that. The earth underneath had to cool some more, tree roots could still be smouldering. Especially the big eucalypts that bordered the east side.
Or leave. Go to where Linley was. It chewed him up, burned in his gut.
James knew where CeeCee and Linley were. He protected them. He was going to them. To Linley. And she had Mary’s … his … son with her.
Linley. Prim and proper, yet with some mettle, some fire. Staunch. Blunt in her conversation, proud of her opinions. Yet gentle, intelligent. Her eyes, direct, searching. Her fingers, light, only once on his sleeve as she tried to get his attention.
Linley, who took in his child.
His gut curled as he remembered the stricken look on her face when he’d told her not to wait. He’d walked away, gone home, gone deep into the orchard that afternoon. Mary had followed some time later with a basket of little pies, a quart of rum, and laughter.
Big mistake.
He didn’t need to wonder any more. He needed to act. Mounting, he turned Pie for the open road. Pushing the horse harder, he galloped out of town, headed for the orchard.
The rage built in his bones. He would go to Linley. He was sure he knew where she was because James Anderson had taken the train to Echuca that morning, and had ordered Ard not to board.
He slowed Pie. The rage cooled, but his breath came fast and his heartbeat sped up. Echuca. Three days’ ride if he was sensible. Did he have three days? He could leave today, travel to dusk, camp out, be on his way just on daybreak. Long days, but he could do it. Pie could do it.
He had water canteens, and a small barrel he could fill and seal tight. Pie would carry it easily. He’d have to get some of Sam’s beefy jerky to keep him going. Take some fruit from home … No orchard now. Perhaps not fruit.
Three days was too long. He needed to go by train tomorrow. He’d have to find the fare somehow. There was nothing left in his mother’s emergency tin. He wouldn’t steal, wouldn’t beg. He’d have to sell something. There’d be something of value left in the hut, surely, but he had to hurry. Had to make good with all the time he had left to him.
His boots barely touched the horse as he urged him harder. His boots.
The new boots, compliments of Mr Egge. They’d be worth at least part of the fare to Echuca.
Had to hurry. Get to the hut. Grab what he needed, get back to town. Maybe stay at Sam’s, that way Pie would be fed and watered. From there, Ard would have an easy walk to catch the next morning’s train.
The ride home was gone in a blur. As soon as the charred remains of the orchard came into view, his thoughts sobered. His heart rate slowed with Pie’s decreasing stride. Cantering up the driveway, the odour of burned wood reached his nostrils.
The landscape looked different even from the time he departed this morning for town. The stone hut stood at the edge of a blackened paddock, the stricken trees no longer fertile. The future, as it once had been here, had vanished. Now it lay elsewhere. He was right to get moving. He didn’t need to stay here.
It no longer looked like home.
Thirty
Echuca
CeeCee felt better. Much better. Surprisingly like her old self. What wonders a doze in a chair could do, the sunlight streaming in.
Goodness. How long had Linley been gone? She was only taking Toby to the town to check at the telegraph office for her.
Patting her face gently with both hands, she determined it felt like her face, the one she knew, not the swollen one. She’d give her right arm for a mirror, but James hadn’t thought to purchase one for the house.
She sat up straight. No dizziness. That was good. No erratic heartbeat. That was good.
Taking a couple of deep breaths, she tested her sore ribs. Not so bad. A little bit tender, but clearly only bruised, not cracked as she’d first suspected.
She tested her neck and shoulders. All good there, too.
If it hadn’t been some time in the morning she might have reached for the rum bottle to celebrate, if she had one. Or to give her a bit of a bolster.
Standing, slowly, and with a hand ready to steady her should she fall back to the chair, she straightened her legs and breathed deeply again. A few tentative steps and still no adverse reaction from her head or her chest.
Wonderful! Mending nicely.
She stepped carefully to the window and drew aside the light calico curtain. Daylight blazed ever brighter and she squeezed her eyes shut. A little squeamish squelch from her blackened eye, but that was it.
It looked to be about late morning, perhaps even lunch time. Good. That meant Linley wouldn’t be too long.
Barefoot, she headed outside. She stood for a minute absorbing the heat of the day then hurried as best she could along the dirt path to the privy, her feet not enjoying the hot ground. Oh, for some new shoes.
Once relieved of a full bladder, she returned inside, leaning on the doorjamb to dust off the warm soles of her feet. Not too bad, no shortness of breath, no giddy head.
I am going to venture a walk.
Thirst headed her to the kitchen and she poured a pannikin of water, tossing it back as if it were the rum she’d thought about earlier. She poured another and swallowed, then made her way back carefully, with deliberately calm steps, to her room.
She retrieved her boots, sat on the bed and pulled them on. Sore ribs protested her leaning over to tie the laces, but she only gave in to it once or twice.
Get used to it, my girl
. We are healing and that’s that. Bloody man won’t be stopping me.
The wash cloth hung loosely over the small bowl of water in the corner of the room. She dipped it, wrung it out and rubbed it over her face and neck. It would have to do. Refreshed, and still testing herself, she walked purposefully to the front door. Nothing bad happened.
Good.
She picked up her bag, a small lace and drawstring tote in which she kept her handkerchief and a small purse of coins. Her hat waited on the floor nearby.
We must get on and get some furniture for the place. Where is James?
She scooped up the hat and placed it on her head, tucking wisps of hair under it. Certainly no time to redo her hair properly. Hopefully she was presentable enough for daylight. No matter. A walk in the sunshine was bound to do her wonders, even if it was just to the end of the street.
Stepping outside into the heat of the day, it felt wonderful.
I’m alive!
Deep breaths and aromatic eucalyptus filled her nostrils, warmed her lungs. Making her way down the little path to the gate, she opened it and turned left, taking care to mind where she was walking. Her breathing was even, her steps confident. Mindful not to overdo it, she paced with measure. With every stride she felt better.
This part of town was new to her but she headed for a landmark she recognised—a church, its spire not too distant. She’d know exactly where she was when she got there. It wouldn’t take long.
She wasn’t a churchgoing woman as such, much to the disgust of people she couldn’t care less about, but today it would serve a purpose for her—perhaps she’d be able to obtain a form to register Toby’s birth. That is, unless something would smite her pagan self for being anywhere close to such holy ground. Not that she cared much for holy ground, either.
A lovely red brick building stood graciously ahead, its stately spire serenely pointing, she suspected, towards heaven. She swung open the gate, and keenly felt the weight of the last few days drop away.
