The Postmistress

by Alison Stuart

  ‘Go.’ Netty leaned against the door into the residence. ‘I’ll keep an eye on things here.’

  Adelaide glared at her friend, wondering how long she had been there.

  ‘You can bring Danny,’ Caleb said. ‘I know the school has not reopened.’

  Netty made a shooing gesture with her hands. ‘Go. Get some fresh air. I can’t think of the last time you took a day off that wasn’t a Sunday. I’ll pack a picnic lunch.’

  ‘Netty Redley, you are a saint,’ Caleb said. ‘Adelaide, I’ll go organise the horses. If you promise to bring lunch, we’ll make a day of it.’ He turned at the door, giving her a smile. ‘I hope you will consider wearing your fetching riding ensemble?’

  Faithful to his instructions, Adelaide and Danny were waiting on the post office’s verandah when Caleb returned with the horses: his own grey gelding, a bay mare that Sones assured Caleb belonged to Adelaide and a stocky pony for Danny.

  His heart lifted at the sight of them. Adelaide had an arm around Danny’s shoulder and she clutched a wide-brimmed felt hat in the other hand. She wore the man’s trousers held up by a wide leather belt, well-polished riding boots and a white shirt, caught at the neck with a colourful scarf. A loose waistcoat completed the ensemble. No woman in fine silks and jewels could have looked any better, and he wondered why she persisted in wearing black for a husband ten years in the grave.

  He cupped his hands and lifted her into the saddle and turned to Danny. The boy watched the pony with a frown on his face.

  ‘Something wrong? Sones assured me that old Ben here was a gentle animal.’

  ‘I’m not a very good rider,’ Danny said. ‘Amos has shown me some things and he has promised to teach me properly, but he never seems to have time.’

  ‘Time you learned,’ Caleb said. ‘Left foot in the stirrup and swing your leg up.’ He hoisted the boy into the saddle and adjusted the stirrups. ‘Now, grip with your knees and hold the reins like this. Not too tight and not too loose.’

  Danny’s mouth quirked uncertainly.

  ‘You’ll be fine. We’re in no hurry.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘I thought we’d go up to Shenandoah. It’s a pretty place.’

  ‘For now,’ Adelaide cut in with a trace of acerbity.

  They rode north past the blackened remains of the Murray house and turned up the Pretty Sally track. Caleb rode with Danny, giving the boy advice, and Danny’s confidence improved enough to break into a gentle trot.

  They rode through the settlement, where a few of the locals greeted Adelaide by name, and left the horses at the head of the path down to the creek. Caleb unstrapped the bag containing lunch from his saddle and led the way down the steep track.

  A rustle in the bushes ahead of them brought the party to a halt as a brown bird the size of a large chicken stepped onto the path with dignity. If it hadn’t been for the bird’s magnificent tail, mimicking the shape of a lyre to perfection, which he displayed in all its glory, nobody would pay such a nondescript bird any heed.

  Adelaide clutched his arm. ‘A lyrebird. I’ve never seen one in full display before,’ she said. ‘He’s magnificent.’ She sighed as the bird lowered his plumage and scuttled into the bush. ‘Such a pity we have to destroy their habitats.’

  Caleb laid a hand on Danny’s shoulder. ‘Now, my boy, you’ll find my gold pan in the mine’s adit. Perhaps you’ll have more luck than me.’

  Choosing a sheltered spot against an ancient river rock, Adelaide unbuckled the bag and pulled out an old blanket that she laid on the ground. Leaving her to set out their lunch, Caleb and Danny took the gold pan and headed down to the creek. Caleb showed the boy how to sift the dirt, swirling the pan in such a way that the heavy gold sank to the bottom.

  But every pan promised much and delivered nothing and soon Caleb sensed the boy was getting bored.

  ‘One more and we’ll go and eat,’ he suggested.

  Danny scooped up the gravel and began rocking the pan. He gave a sharp cry. ‘Caleb, look.’

  Caleb laughed. There, in the sand at the bottom of the pan, the unmistakable glimmer of gold, and not just worthless flakes, a couple of larger pieces, bigger than the sand grains. They were still probably worth no more than a couple of shillings, but Danny’s eyes shone.

  ‘Mama! Come and see! I found gold.’

  Adelaide peered over their shoulders. ‘We can now retire and buy a house in Melbourne,’ she said.

  ‘Do you have something to put the gold in?’ Caleb asked.

  Danny produced an old ink bottle and carefully extracted the grains of gold from the pan.

  ‘Are you ready to eat?’ Adelaide asked.

  ‘In a minute,’ Danny said. ‘I want to have another go.’

  ‘Have some lunch first,’ Adelaide insisted, but even food could not keep Danny from the lure of gold. He bolted down a piece of pie and hurried back to the creek, picking a quiet bend in the creek just out of earshot of the adults.

  Caleb lay down on the blanket beside Adelaide, hands behind his head, looking up at the bright sky. The day was warm but not unpleasant and, away from the Maiden’s Creek stampers, the clear bell-like call of an unseen bird and the chirp of cicadas surrounded them.

  ‘I am beginning to love this country,’ he said.

  ‘I loved it the moment I set foot in Sandridge,’ Adelaide said. ‘It was as far away from England as I could get and it offered me something England never could—hope.’

  He rolled onto his elbow and looked at her. ‘Why do you say that?’

  She turned her attention to slicing a cake but not before he caught the fleeting glimpse of something dark cross her features.

  ‘Memories, Caleb. Just memories.’

  Caleb studied her for a long moment. What did he know about her? Apart from the dead husband, very little.

  ‘Why did you come to Australia?’

  She swallowed and her gaze darted down to Danny’s distant figure hunched over the gold pan. She kept her eyes fixed on the boy as she said, ‘We had passage booked before Richard died. I saw no point in changing those plans.’

  She was lying.

  ‘Did you have no other family to care for you?’

  She gave a short, humourless laugh. ‘I am estranged from my father and I have no other family to speak of.’ She looked at him. ‘Please, let’s not spoil this lovely day with talk of things I would rather forget.’

  He would have pressed her, but Danny came running up with his gold pan.

  ‘Look, Caleb! More gold.’ He frowned. ‘I suppose it’s your gold, isn’t it?’

  ‘I suppose it is,’ Caleb said, inspecting the wealth that glinted in the bottom of the pan. ‘But for once, Daniel Greaves, you can claim finder’s rights.’

  Danny grinned. ‘Does that make me a claim jumper?’

  ‘I think it makes you my sole employee,’ Caleb said.

  Danny returned to the creek. Adelaide pulled out her sketchbook and leaned back against the rock.

  ‘What are you going to do now, Caleb?’ Adelaide asked.

  He settled back on the blanket, propped on one elbow. ‘I was planning on a snooze.’

  ‘I mean, would you have come back to Maiden’s Creek if it hadn’t been for the Murrays?’

  Caleb considered the question, remembering the interrupted ride to Buneep. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I had already made that decision. I was going to turn at Buneep and come back.’

  Back to my grand girl. Back home.

  ‘I have a few pennies in my pocket after playing doctor for the last week, so I can take some time to work out what to do next. I think I might talk to Penrose and see what I can do about raising some capital to get this mine going.’

  He stretched out on the blanket and pulled his hat over his eyes, giving in to the lassitude of the warm afternoon. A companionable silence stretched between them, interrupted only by the scratch of Adelaide’s pencil.

  ‘I’m just going up the hill a bit to get a better vi
ew,’ Adelaide said.

  ‘Good idea,’ Caleb murmured.

  Above him, the rattle of rocks marked Adelaide’s progress up the hill.

  ‘Caleb!’

  At Adelaide’s cry, he was on his feet. Down by the creek, Danny turned, dropping the pan in the water with a splash.

  She balanced on the steep slope, a rock in her hand.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m fine.’ She slithered down the slope towards him and held out the rock. ‘I haven’t lived in Maiden’s Creek all these years without knowing gold when I see it,’ she said. ‘Tell me, am I right?’

  He took the chunk of quartz and turned it over. His breath caught. A line of yellow ran through the middle of the rock, twinkling beguilingly as it caught the sun.

  He looked up at the slope, hardly daring to ask, ‘Where did this come from?’

  ‘I kicked it with my boot,’ she said. ‘Follow me.’

  They clambered up the hill and Adelaide fell to her knees, scrabbling in the dirt with her hands to reveal the parent rock. A bright scar in the dirt, it shone and shimmered, and after a quick fossick with his pocket knife, Caleb revealed that the quartz seam widened, running down the hill away from the fledgling adit.

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ Caleb said, pushing his hat to the back of his head. ‘Penrose was right. It’s the bloody reef but Hannigan and his boys were off by yards.’

  He scuffed dirt back over the seam and slipped the rock into his pocket. ‘I’ve got to show Penrose,’ he said, adding, ‘and this has to be our secret.’

  ‘Of course,’ Adelaide said, her tone huffy. ‘I was not contemplating running down the main street of Maiden’s Creek yelling, “Eureka!”.’

  He took her hand and helped her down the slope. Back on flat ground, he did not relinquish his hold, instead his hand slid around her waist, drawing her into him. They both glanced towards the creek where Danny had returned to his gold panning, his back to them, shoulders hunched in concentration.

  ‘Adelaide.’ Her name came out as a low growl.

  ‘Caleb?’ she said with a rising inflection, but made no attempt to extricate herself from his embrace. He drew her in closer and lowered his mouth to hers. She sighed softly and her arms circled his neck.

  He had kissed women before, but this was different. Adelaide seemed to melt into him. In the loose men’s clothing, freed of corsets and petticoats, her body moulded to his and he responded to her passion, his hand brushing the unrestrained curve of her breast. If it had not been for her boy down by the creek, he would have guided her to the blanket and after that …

  She pushed away, struggling to catch her breath. She had tears in her eyes. He had gone too far.

  ‘Adelaide? I apologise … I should never—’

  She balled her fists and hit him without force as she pressed her head against his chest. ‘How dare you come into my life and turn everything upside down.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  The tears overflowed, making damp tracks on her cheek, but she was smiling. ‘You stupid man. Don’t you understand? I may have—I may have begun to allow myself to have feelings for you that I should have never …’

  Relief flooded Caleb and he sagged at the knees, before straightening to take her in his arms.

  He shook his head and smiled and she lowered her eyes. ‘Now you’re laughing at me. Is it not enough that I have just made a complete fool of myself without you compounding my idiocy?’

  ‘Adelaide.’ He held her close and kissed the top of her head. ‘I’m not laughing at you.’

  ‘I made a mistake once,’ she mumbled into his waistcoat.

  He stroked the back of her head. ‘Mistake?’

  ‘Poor choice of words. Forget it.’

  He brushed the tears from her eyes with his thumb and smiled. ‘Let us agree that whatever we have in our pasts, that is where it remains. It can’t hurt us now.’ He stepped back and took her hand, pressing the fingertips to his lips. ‘Miss Adelaide, would you consider it presumptuous of me to ask your consent to pay calls?’

  She laughed, a high, clear sound that echoed around the gully. ‘Why, Doctor Hunt, it would be most presumptuous.’

  In a calculated parody of a Southern drawl, he gave an exaggerated bow and said, ‘It is my dearest desire that we become better acquainted.’

  She cupped his cheek with her hand, running her thumb along his jaw. ‘I think, Caleb Hunt, that I would like it very much if you were to call on me. This has happened so fast, I need time to get to know you.’ She cast a glance in Danny’s direction. ‘For Danny to get to know you. He likes you and you’re good for him.’

  He studied her, trying to look past the defences that had sprung up again. Someone in her past had hurt her and hurt her badly.

  ‘I think, Adelaide, we both need time.’ He looked around at the pleasant gully. ‘This was not what I imagined when I landed at Williamstown.’ His eyes returned to her. ‘You are not what I imagined.’

  ‘But we have time, don’t we?’ she asked, a plaintive note in her voice. ‘You’re not planning to leave Maiden’s Creek again?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m stuck here. I want to get this place working. Given the parlous state of my finances, we have all the time in the world, Adelaide.’

  He pulled her in to him and they kissed again, a long, slow, lingering kiss.

  An old miner had described to Adelaide how they used an amalgam of mercury to gather in the grains of gold dust from the stampers. Now that same quicksilver ran in her veins, gathering every gentle word and soft embrace and the touch of Caleb’s lips until the sensation became a shimmering light that swelled in her heart.

  When he kissed her, it felt like her breath stopped in her throat and even her heart paused its beating. Every sense was heightened. The distant voices from the mine on the far side of the ridge, the chime of the bellbirds and the cackle of parrots, the rasp of Danny’s gold pan in the creek, the scent of the man who held her in his arms—sandalwood, soap and the musky scent of horse—and the strong lips on hers, dry from the heat and the ride but as sweet as a summer strawberry, sending shards of fire coursing through her body.

  ‘Mama?’

  Danny’s voice jerked Adelaide out of her reverie as she sat at the dinner table. In the kitchen, Netty clattered saucepans as she prepared pudding.

  He looked at his mother’s uneaten boiled mutton. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’

  Adelaide picked up a piece of carrot with her fork. Her meal had gone cold while she daydreamed.

  Danny regarded her from under his fringe of blond hair. ‘Do you like Caleb, Mama?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ she said. ‘Do you?’

  Danny ignored the question. ‘I mean, really like him,’ he persisted.

  Adelaide sniffed, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks. ‘Don’t be impertinent.’

  Danny grinned at her. ‘I like him.’

  ‘Liking someone is not enough, Danny.’

  ‘But I saw him kiss you,’ Danny said with a cheeky smile. ‘Does that mean you have to get married now?’

  ‘Enough, Danny. It is none of your concern,’ she snapped.

  Danny grinned. ‘I think it might be,’ he mumbled as he stuffed potato into his mouth.

  Twenty

  3 February 1872

  Caleb had learned that whenever Sergeant Maidment summoned him to the police station, the news would not be good. His unease deepened when he saw Osborne Russell seated in the sergeant’s office.

  Russell handed him a telegram without a word.

  SUSPICIOUS DEATH SHADY CREEK. NAME OF DECEASED ALFRED BOWEN. COME URGENTLY. DOCTOR, MAGISTRATE AND POLICE SERGEANT REQUIRED.

  Caleb handed the telegram back to Russell. ‘Surely this is a mistake?’

  Neither the policeman nor the bank manager answered.

  ‘He was a friend,’ Caleb said, the tendrils of loss and grief constricting his heart.

  The lines on the bank manager’s fa
ce deepened as he nodded. ‘Poor man. I can’t see what would be suspicious about his death, though. He was not in the best of health.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Russell and Maidment exchanged glances. ‘It could hardly have escaped your attention, Hunt. The man was an alcoholic.’

  ‘You’re right, but I would not have said he was on death’s door.’

  ‘Was Bowen ill when he set out for Melbourne?’ Maidment asked.

  Caleb shook his head. ‘The trouble with drinkers like Bowen is they can hide their true condition.’

  Russell steepled his fingers. ‘Practicalities, gentlemen. What about his family?’

  ‘He mentioned a sister in Ireland,’ Caleb said, ‘but I know precious little else about him. And where does his death leave me? I am technically guilty of malpractice without any formal Australian recognition. You are going to have to replace Bowen as a matter of urgency.’

  Russell frowned. ‘Malpractice?’

  ‘I am not licensed to practice medicine in this colony,’ Caleb said.

  ‘Awkward, I admit, but I am afraid we are going to have to overlook your shortcomings for a little longer, Hunt.’

  Caleb nodded. ‘What do you want to do?’

  Russell pulled out a heavy gold watch and snapped it open. ‘We’ll set out for Shady Creek in an hour. We’ll be there by nightfall.’

  The men agreed to meet at the stables and Caleb went to pack a bag. Alone in Bowen’s home, he struggled with the feeling of loss. He hadn’t known Alfred Bowen long but he had sensed in the old doctor a kindred spirit. They could have been friends—had been friends.

  Maidment, Russell and Caleb rode in silence through the hot afternoon, each contemplating the grim task that awaited them at Shady Creek. They reached the hotel by four, the February sun still fierce. The youngest Gulliver child, a scabby boy of about ten, came running out to greet them, and gathered up the reins of their lathered, weary horses.

  Russell mopped his sweating face and straightened his tie. The man’s normally florid face seemed to have lost its colour and his eyes were marked by dark blue smudges of exhaustion. ‘Let’s get on with it.’