Colonial Daughter

by Heather Garside

  During her childhood she’d often longed to camp beneath the stars as the men folk of the family did. But after an hour of restless tossing and turning, Louise thought wistfully of a soft, feather mattress, clean sheets next to her skin and the security of four walls about her. A lone mosquito droned persistently about her face, although there had been no rain for months. The bones in her corset dug into her ribs and when she rolled to her side, the hard ground pressed into her hip bone.

  The night noises she enjoyed listening to from her cousins’ veranda sounded different now. A curlew wailed mournfully and a pair of dingoes howled nearby, making her spine tingle and her stomach muscles tighten. Although she knew the wild dogs were unlikely to attack her, she scrambled out of the swag and threw more wood on the fire.

  Eventually the dingoes moved on and she awoke shivering just on dawn, the two blankets in her meagre swag barely enough to ward off the chill of the spring night.

  Her body ached all over and her eyelids drooped with weariness, but since she was awake, she decided to make an early start. Shadow would travel better in the cool of early morning. She fanned the dying coals of last night’s fire into a blaze and put her quart-pot on to boil, before setting off after Shadow. It was still dark but she could hear his hobble chains jingling nearby as he grazed. He nickered when she called him and readily submitted to the bridle.

  Louise pressed her cheek against his, gratified by this small show of appreciation for her company. Her confidence rising, she led him back to the camp and saddled him. She ate quickly and packed her belongings, fastening them securely to the saddle. As the eastern sky lightened, she mounted with the aid of a fallen log and regained the road before setting off at a brisk trot.

  Her sore muscles protested at being back in the saddle, making it impossible to sustain the pace of the previous day. Luckily Shadow was shod, or he would probably have been footsore by now. After a couple of miles she eased back to a walk, shifting her tender buttocks in the saddle.

  Long before the wagon came into view, a teamster’s voice and cracking whip heralded its approach from the opposite direction. Louise concealed herself behind a clump of wattle as the team crawled past; twenty-two red and roan bullocks yoked two abreast, the wagon piled so high with bales of wool, she marvelled the load didn’t topple. Oblivious to her listening ears, the bullocky cursed freely. She blushed and squirmed, wondering if his embarrassment would equal hers if she were to show herself.

  She was less fortunate in dodging two male travellers on horseback. As she rounded a bend in the road there they were, riding towards her. It was too late to hide. They stared hard at her as she came abreast of them, but she held her head high, looking stiffly straight ahead and guiding Shadow to the furthest edge of the road.

  When they raised their hats to her, saying, ‘G’day, Ma’am,’ she nodded, murmuring a barely audible response. She continued her way, at first not daring to look back, but when she did she saw them reined in on the road, gazing after her.

  As she rode on, she worried about the encounter. Hopefully they’d be long gone before Charles came searching.

  ~*~

  Coming upon good water in a creek at eleven o’clock, she decided to stop for lunch. Since she’d made good time, she unsaddled Shadow and left his reins trailing so he could graze. She rested after her meal and lulled by the warmth of the sun, dozed off to sleep. When she woke, the sun was past its zenith and she was heavy-eyed and listless, but she hastily re-saddled Shadow and continued on her way.

  Another ten miles brought her to the Bauhinia Downs homestead, situated with a scrubby rise to one side and a fall of open country rolling to a creek on the other. To the west an unusual, knobby hill rose abruptly from the open downs. Instead of travelling due south, the road swung westwards after leaving the homestead. It seemed she had no alternative but to ask for directions and hoped this wouldn’t give Charles a further clue to tracing her.

  Spotting a figure near the horse-yards, she rode to intercept him. The bearded stockman turned to stare at her in obvious surprise, but he saluted her courteously, raising his cabbage-tree hat.

  ‘G’day, Ma’am. Are you visiting someone at the homestead?’

  ‘Actually, no.’ She took a deep breath, trying to still the tremor in her voice. ‘I’m travelling to Banana, but I’m not familiar with the roads. Could you give me directions, please?’

  ‘Banana?’

  Confronted with that startled tone, her heart did a quick flip-flop and her stomach churned. ‘Is that a problem?’

  The man shrugged. ‘Well, it’s only about sixty miles, as the crow flies’–he pointed to the east–‘but there’s no road that way, not from this end. You’d have to follow the road all the way through Gainsford and Westwood and back again. Have you come from Springsure?’

  ‘Yes,’ she lied, her thoughts whirling in panic. How fortunate that he hadn’t seen her approach on the Gainsford road. She smoothed her hand along Shadow’s mane, but closed her fingers into a fist when she saw how badly they were shaking. ‘Could you find someone to guide me? Travelling all that way by road is out of the question. I must be in Banana by a certain date.’

  She saw him hesitate and added quickly, ‘I could pay.’

  Louise could almost read his thoughts. A young lady riding alone was a puzzle in itself, her possession of money and an upper-class accent only adding to it. But so long as he was prepared to help her, his opinion scarcely mattered.

  He was silent for a moment as if considering the options. ‘I hardly know whether to mention this, but there’s a fellow camped here with a mob of cattle. He’s droving them to his place this side of Banana. On the Dawson, that is. He’s only got two men and one of them is sick. It doesn’t seem fitting’–he frowned doubtfully–‘but he’s a sound young chap. I know him well enough. It’d be a slow trip, going with the cattle, but shorter than going by road. He’d look after you and see you got to Banana safely, I dare say.’

  A glimmer of hope helped settle her roiling stomach. ‘When is he leaving?’

  The stockman shook his head. ‘Don’t know. Depends on his man, I suppose. He got here yesterday evening and the fellow was crook then. Apparently he’s worse today. Kavanagh won’t be able to wait long, though. He’ll have to get the cattle on the move again.’

  ‘Could you take me to see him?’

  ‘Well,’ he hesitated, ‘perhaps it’d be better if I took you to the big house and handed you over to the housekeeper, Mrs Black. I’ll talk to Kavanagh and he can come up and see you later. You’ll have to stay here the night, whatever happens. The boss is away but the housekeeper will look after you.’

  Louise nodded gratefully as the tension eased out of her. Such was bush hospitality, to extend this much courtesy to a stranger. A proper bed and a bath would be most welcome. She glanced down at her crumpled, travel-stained riding habit and winced, wondering what sort of picture she must present.

  She could see the man’s intense curiosity struggling with his natural reticence. She hoped his curiosity would lose the battle, but it wasn’t to be. As he escorted her to the house he asked diffidently, ‘How do you come to be travelling all alone, Miss? It’s pretty risky for a woman.’

  She forced a light, dismissive laugh. ‘Oh, it’s not so very dangerous. I’ve been avoiding other travellers and so far I haven’t met with any trouble.’

  ‘Are you armed?’

  ‘Yes, I have a revolver.’

  ‘I’d keep it handy, if I was you.’ His voice held a note of grimness. ‘There aren’t many ruffians about who’d dare to touch a lady, but these roads are pretty lonely and there’d be no-one to help you if you ran into trouble. Don’t you have family?’

  ‘My parents are in England. I was governessing for a family in Springsure and I’m about to take up a new position near Banana. My name is Lucy Forrest, by the way.’

  He raised his hat. ‘Sam Naylor. Pleased to meet you, Miss Forrest. You’d have been much safer taking the coach t
o Westwood and connecting with another coach to Banana there. I’m surprised the family let you travel this way.’

  ‘I had to leave in a hurry, Mr Naylor. I couldn’t wait for the coach.’ Make of that what he would; he couldn’t ask more questions without being intrusive.

  He gave her a sideways, speculative glance but said no more, leading her towards the homestead. Once there he dismounted and helped her out of the saddle. He sent a maid to find the housekeeper and introduced her when she arrived, briefly explaining Louise’s circumstances. ‘I’ll talk to Kavanagh now. See if he can take the young lady with him.’

  ‘I don’t think much of that idea.’ The housekeeper turned to Louise. ‘Miss, if you’re willing to go droving, you’re braver than I am.’

  She was a large, grey-haired woman with beefy arms and a waistline that bulged in spite of her corset, but her face was kindly. ‘Get Miss Forrest’s bag for her, will you, Sam?’ She turned back to Louise. ‘You must be wanting to wash.’

  ‘I’d love a bath, thank you.’

  Mrs Black escorted Louise to a spare bedroom and had a maid bring in an iron bathtub which she filled with warm water. Fortunately the housekeeper asked no questions, only venturing the information that Mr Naylor was the head stockman and was in charge in the owner’s absence.

  Left alone, Louise made the most of her bath. Afterwards she donned one of her two dresses and brushed out her hair. Her muscles still ached, but at least she felt clean and respectable again.

  Waiting in the sitting room, she picked up a recent edition of the Brisbane Telegraph. She’d scarcely begun to read of an expedition by a Mr Dalrymple to explore the north coast of Queensland when Mrs Black appeared at the door.

  ‘Mr Kavanagh’s waiting on the veranda.’

  Louise followed the housekeeper to find a man sitting on the railing, swinging his riding boots idly against the slats. He slid to his feet as she approached, politely removing his battered hat and setting it against the post as Mrs Black made the introductions. He was a rough-looking stockman with tousled sandy hair and dirty clothes, quite tall and slim but otherwise not particularly prepossessing. Unlike most bushmen who sported flowing beards, he was merely unshaven with a week or two’s growth of whiskers giving him an unkempt appearance. Mr Naylor had referred to him as young, but Louise hadn’t guessed quite this young. Looking at his stubbled face she realized he was probably no older than her brother Charles.

  ‘Naylor says you’re travelling to Banana,’ Kavanah said, once the introductions had been made. His eyes were alight with friendly curiosity. ‘There must be better ways of getting there than going through the scrub with a mob of cattle.’

  Louise shrugged. ‘The other option is out for me, I’m afraid. It’s too far and I don’t have that much time.’

  ‘Hmm. You’ll never find your way on your own. I don’t want to refuse to take you and have you getting lost on my conscience, but do you think you’ll handle a droving camp? It’s no Sunday picnic.’

  Did she really want to spend several days in the company of this unkempt individual? She reminded herself of Mr Naylor’s recommendation of his character and hoped he was more respectable than he looked. Right now she couldn’t afford to be choosy.

  She summoned a smile. ‘I’m tough and determined, Mr Kavanagh. I’ve not been droving before, but I’m a competent rider and I’m accustomed to cattle. I should be most grateful if you’d allow me to accompany you.’

  He eyed her in silence for a moment. She stiffened under his scrutiny, but at last his gaze shifted.

  ‘I’ll say yes, but I hope I don’t regret this. When do you want to leave?’

  ‘In the morning, I’d hoped.’

  The young drover frowned. ‘That depends on Thompson, my man. He’s crook and he seems to be getting worse. Unless he improves in a hurry we won’t be going anywhere.’

  Alarm shot through her body. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘Dysent’ry,’ he supplied shortly. ‘I’m going to ask Mrs Black if there’s anything she can do for him. She’s pretty good with sickness, I hear and the station has a well-stocked medicine chest.’

  ‘Dysentery! But he could die. He must at least be bedridden for a couple of weeks.’

  Kavanagh seemed unmoved by her dismay. ‘I don’t think he’ll die. He hasn’t got it that bad. But if there’s no sign of improvement soon I’ll have to go on without him–see if I can find someone else to help me with the cattle.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary. I can take your man’s place.’

  He smiled, his eyes travelling idly over her. ‘I don’t think you know what you’re letting yourself in for, Miss Forrest.’

  Louise bristled. ‘Perhaps not, but I have mustered cattle before.’ Thank God that was true–James Barclay had occasionally allowed her to help bring in a quiet mob of cattle. ‘I’m not afraid of hard work and I promise I won’t let you down.’

  ‘Oh, I dare say. But we’ll wait until I can get another man, all the same.’

  Her throat tightened as she imagined Charles hot on her heels. ‘But we must go–I can’t wait here. It’s out of the question!’

  Kavanagh’s eyes narrowed. ‘What’s the hurry?’

  She tried to dissemble. ‘These people are expecting me–the family that I’m to go to, that is.’

  She’d betrayed too much of her urgency, she realized. He gave her a disbelieving stare. ‘I think there’s more to your story than you’re telling, Miss Forrest.’

  Louise averted her head, biting her lip in a tacit refusal to answer any more questions. He didn’t press her, suddenly saying, surprisingly, ‘All right, then. We’ll go tomorrow morning, if I can talk Mrs Black into looking after Thompson. But it won’t be an easy job, you know, taking cattle through all that scrub between here and the Dawson. There’s five hundred head of young cattle and that’s plenty for three men to handle, let alone a woman riding sidesaddle. And there’s the night-watch, too. Divine and I can’t cope with that on our own.’

  Her stomach quivered but she straightened her shoulders, looking him in the eye. ‘I’ll do my share,’ she assured him firmly.

  ~*~

  Ten minutes later Lloyd Kavanagh mounted his horse to return to his camp at the station water-hole. He’d consulted with Mrs Black and had received her permission to leave the sick man in an empty hut where he could stay until he was recovered. The housekeeper had promised to tend him and Kavanagh felt confident he was leaving the man in good hands.

  He thought about the girl, wondering what she was up to. She was game, he had to give her that–either game or stupid. He hoped it wasn’t the last. She looked the competent, independent type and he’d based his decision on that. For all their sakes he’d better be right. With five hundred head, miles from anywhere in the brigalow, she’d bloody better not let him down. Controlling the cattle in the thick scrub would keep three of them busy. He couldn’t afford to mollycoddle her.

  He’d questioned Sam Naylor about her earlier and Sam had shrugged and laughed. ‘Hell, I’m no ladies’ man. You’ll see for yourself, soon enough. But I wouldn’t advise you to go getting any funny ideas about her, even if she does go gallivanting about the countryside on her own. She talks and dresses like a silver tail. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got a lot of important male relations around somewhere. Besides, I told her you could be trusted, so don’t make a liar out of me.’

  ‘I won’t.’ Kavanagh grinned. ‘I daresay we’ll be too busy with the cattle to think of romance.’

  Now that he’d seen her, he thought the prospect of romance even less likely. If Miss Forrest had looked the troublesome, flirtatious type he wouldn’t have taken her with him, no matter how persuasive she was. Tall, thin and haughty; that was his first impression of her, and she was certainly a swell. She probably wouldn’t lower herself to wipe her boots on him. Nevertheless, he would keep his word to Naylor and try to look after her, allowing for his other responsibilities.

  But he strongly susp
ected the next few days wouldn’t be easy for any of them.

  Chapter Three

  The housekeeper woke Louise at four o’clock the following morning. Within fifteen minutes she was in the kitchen, dressed in her clean habit and sitting to breakfast at the rough wooden table. It was the first time ever she’d eaten in a kitchen, or so early in the morning. Her stomach was churning and the thick slab of bread and jam seemed to stick in her throat. But she forced it down, knowing her next meal might be many hours away.

  With Mrs Black’s help, she carried her belongings from her bedroom to find the young drover waiting outside with two packhorses and a youth of about sixteen. Kavanagh greeted her politely in the half-light, introducing the lad as Cecil Divine. Divine’s broad hat cast his face in shadow, but she could see he was thin and shaggy-haired. He mumbled a response to her acknowledgment without meeting her eyes and held the horses as Kavanagh set about adding her belongings to the two pack-saddles. Her valise was awkward, but Kavanagh seemed patient enough and eventually got it all settled to his satisfaction.

  She was grateful to find that Sam Naylor had bridled and saddled Shadow for her, avoiding further delay. She turned to thank him and then extended her charm to Mrs Black, expressing gratitude for her hospitality. Sam Naylor helped her into the saddle with a bemused expression, his pipe hanging slackly from his mouth. Louise suppressed a smile. Somehow, she thought, he didn’t quite know what to make of her.

  The head stockman had sent one of his men to see them on their way for the first few miles. As they rode to the stockyards where the cattle had been held overnight, Kavanagh and the other man, Richards, talked. They discussed the season, the prospects of rain and the condition of the stock. Louise rode her horse beside them, listening with interest, discovering the cattle had come from a property near Springsure.

  ‘It’s pretty dry over there at the moment,’ Kavanagh said. ‘They’re selling off their young cattle. I’ve had a fair season on Myvanwy and I’m not fully stocked yet.’