Jewel In the North

by Tricia Stringer

  Charles jabbed his finger at William’s chest. “I don’t know what story you spun for her, Baker, but if you make it back from your ridiculous trek you keep away from Georgina and Prosser’s Run. Do you hear me?”

  William’s arm came up. Charles jerked backwards and lurched away. He lost his footing and fell on his backside. William looked down at him then he continued the lift of his arm and pushed his hat to his head. “You’re a bit jumpy, Wiltshire.” He grinned. “And don’t you worry about me; I’ll make it back and it will take more than a boy like you to keep me away from Prosser’s Run.”

  He looked over Wiltshire’s prone form to Georgina, striding away. She didn’t look back and soon disappeared beyond the rise of the hill. Charles was muttering profanities and trying to get himself up. William gave him a mock salute and walked away to retrieve his horse.

  Georgina listened in silence as Charles raged on about William. They were riding side by side, heading for the homestead. Swan would be slower, leading the packhorse loaded with as much of the dead cow as they could take. Wild animals would get the rest. Charles went on about William’s terrible temper and how he had threatened to hit Charles again.

  All Georgina could think about was William and what he’d told her. He wasn’t married or living with a woman. She still found it hard to believe after all this time of shutting him from her mind.

  “Baker lacks any kind of common decency.” Charles’s complaint broke into her thoughts. She was tired of his grumbling. She urged her horse forward. Her beautiful Duchess was ageing but needed little encouragement to lengthen her stride and break into a canter.

  “I’ll see you at the house,” Georgina called over her shoulder. She suppressed a smirk at the confusion that registered on his face. Charles Wiltshire really was a pompous ass.

  Duchess picked up the pace. Georgina turned back and focused on the ride, confident Charles wouldn’t try to match her speed. He was a good horseman but she had seen the way he had hobbled back from his meeting with William. He’d climbed gingerly onto his horse, saying William had caught him off guard and pushed him over. She grinned now, no longer able to contain her contempt. Whatever William had or hadn’t done to Charles she didn’t care.

  She should have sent Charles away and spoken to William alone, told him she did still love him. Instead she’d pecked him on the lips and almost run away, overwhelmed by her feelings and the further despair at yet another thing her father had been guilty of. Not as terrible as his injury to the shepherd of course, but that he should lie to her — not to mention compromise her happiness so profoundly — was another damning chink in the image of the man she had thought a wonderful man and father.

  And then there was her mother, so dependent on Georgina and such a worrier. Even when Georgina rode out that morning with Swan, Johanna had fussed. The Wiltshires were staying for new year and it had been to oblige her mother that she’d agreed to let Charles accompany them to check the cattle. Now she wished she hadn’t.

  Not only had he messed up the shot on the poor injured cow, so that she’d had to take the gun and finish it herself, but he’d spoiled the small opportunity she’d had to talk further with William. Now she had to be content with the memory of their brief kiss until his return. She slowed Duchess as she approached the gate near the horse yards, then reached down and patted the mare’s neck.

  “Thank you for the ride,” Georgina said. Her father was no longer there but she still felt pressed from all sides. It had been so refreshing to fly across the ground as if she was free just for a short time.

  Twenty-two

  February 1899

  William looked down at the dead cow. Already a million flies crawled over its hide as the February sun crested the hills and sent the force of its scorching heat over the land. Once more he questioned his decision to walk them south. It was the third cow they’d lost in as many days.

  Robert got down from his horse and bent over the animal. “This one’s struggled since we left Smith’s Ridge. I didn’t think it would make it this far.”

  William shook his head. Like Robert he knew exactly which cow it was. He regularly walked among his cattle rather than riding and encouraged Robert to do the same. The animals had settled to the journey and moved on quietly and steadily. He was sad to lose another.

  “But why now?” William scratched the thick beard on his cheek. “For the first month there was barely any feed or water for them. Now the country at least offers something to feed them and enough water and they’re dropping dead.”

  “Perhaps they were already too worn down to recover.”

  William looked at the scattered bush around the shallow waterhole. In among the low grey and green shrubs were the browns and blacks of his cattle, heads down, eating. He sighed and turned back to the dead cow.

  “We’d better drag it further away. It’s too close to the water.”

  They set to work together. William was so grateful for Robert’s calm good sense and his strength. He had got to know his younger brother all over again during their time on the road and he was proud of the man Robert had become.

  Once they’d moved the cow Robert got out his knives. “Roast beef again for dinner?”

  William raised his eyebrows. There was barely any meat on the poor animal.

  “I might be able to find a few mouthfuls from his rump.” Robert bent over the cow and began his grisly work.

  William left him to it. Rex would already have a fire going. William was thankful the older man had agreed to come with them. He hadn’t reckoned on how hard it would be on the road. It would have been too difficult with just Robert. The first week had been the worst, before the cattle and the three men had settled to the routine of constantly moving on. Sleep had been almost nonexistent and food intermittent. They had only dozed briefly in the saddle, keeping one eye on the cattle, who would spread out looking for the sparse feed.

  They had followed the edge of the ranges heading south rather than cross the plains, where he knew there was no feed or water. Now they’d come to country that had received some rain in the last few months, by the look of the grasses and bush around them. He had thought his decision to move the cattle south had been a good one until they started dropping dead.

  He mounted his horse and set off on a slow loop around the herd, but the rumble of wagon wheels pulled him up again. The road that led south was only a little further over from their current position. Often they caught sight of a wagon or a coach passing by in the distance. Now he heard the whistle of a bullocky and through the bush he saw the top of a loaded wagon making its slow journey. William was used to living a solitary life but he couldn’t help watching the wagon until it was lost from his sight. They had seen few people on their travels but now they were close to the road and camping near waterholes they would often have some fellow travellers nearby. William had taken special notice of the wagons carrying loads from the mines. It was work when there was little else. He pondered the wagons and horses idle at home.

  Then thoughts of home turned his mind to Georgina. During the long hours in the saddle he had plenty of time to think about her. Just when they’d found each other again he’d had to leave. He closed his eyes and conjured up a picture of her in his head — her red hair, her green eyes looking longingly at him, the taste of her lips — and he tried to imagine what she might be doing at that exact moment.

  A cow bellowed and William’s eyes flew open. Just ahead of him a young steer was wedged between the forked branches of a tree.

  He slid from his horse to make a closer inspection. The young animal had put its head through the gap, no doubt to reach some leaves, and when it had pulled back its head had got stuck in the fork. Unable to move forward or back, it was panicking and in danger of strangling itself. William walked all around. Somehow he had to raise the steer high enough to get its head out. He was pleased to see Robert riding towards him.

  “I wondered what all the noise was about.” Robert lifted his hat
and scratched his head.

  “You’re just in time.” William waved to the far side of the beast. “You put your shoulder to him on that side and I’ll take this side. If we can lift him he should be able to pull himself backwards.”

  Robert gave William a doubtful look but did as he was asked.

  “Ready?” William called. The terrified animal struggled against him.

  “Yes,” came Robert’s muffled reply.

  “Lift!”

  The animal slid up the tree far enough to free itself and skittered backwards. William was knocked to the ground, landing spread-eagled across some rocks that dug into his hip and buttocks.

  Robert stood, hands on hips, laughing at him.

  “All right,” William grumbled. “Enough.”

  His brother extended a hand, the grin still on his face.

  “Thanks.” William accepted the offer and felt Robert’s strength as he pulled on his arm.

  “Will you be all right while I get the roast cooking?”

  “Of course.” William brushed leaves and dirt from his clothes.

  “Only I don’t want you falling over and hurting yourself more.” Robert’s grin widened.

  “That’s enough from you.” William tried to walk with some dignity to his horse even though his hip and backside ached. “You get back to your cooking. I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

  Robert returned to his horse, swung into the saddle and gave William a mock salute. “See you in a few hours.”

  William waited until his younger brother was out of sight before he climbed gingerly onto Big Red. He winced as pain shot down his leg, shifted until he found a more comfortable position and resumed his watch of the cattle.

  When he returned to camp that night Robert had the meat and potatoes cooked and Rex had already eaten. He set off to watch the cattle and William took his place.

  “There’s gravy.” Robert indicated a tin on a rock at the edge of the small cooking fire.

  William peered at the brown liquid and his stomach rumbled at the delicious smell of it and of the meat Robert was forking onto his plate. “You have many talents, little brother. I’m looking forward to you living at Smith’s Ridge when we return.”

  “I’m not coming to be your cook.” Robert gave him a baleful look.

  “I could do with one.” William gave him a wink and a nudge. “But you’re not so pretty in an apron.”

  Robert snorted and shoved William’s plate at him before bending to pick up his own.

  The night was warm and they sat a distance from the fire, William with a little more care for his bruised backside. They had taken a couple of mouthfuls before Robert spoke.

  “I have news from home.”

  William looked up from his plate. “How?”

  “There were some teamsters at the waterhole earlier who were extremely pleased they’d found me. They’re travelling from the north and passed through Hawker. One of them knows Father and he asked them to pass on his message if they saw us. He’s talking of setting off on the road like us. There’s been rain in the south and he’s found someone to agist some sheep.”

  “It makes sense.” William took another mouthful of meat. He was a little disappointed. He had hoped the news would somehow be from Georgina. He wondered again where she was right now and what she might be doing.

  “Who will Father take with him?”

  William looked up at Robert’s question.

  “Droving the sheep?” Robert said.

  “Binda and Timothy I expect. Grandpa would be the best one to remain at home.”

  “You don’t think they’d all go?”

  William shook his head. “The three of them could manage. We’re only three.”

  “And look how tired we are. Anyway, cattle are easier than sheep on the road.”

  “He might take another of the men from the camp. Did the teamster have any other news of home?”

  Robert shook his head. “Only that the reason Father was in Hawker was to bring Jessie to Mrs Ward’s home to have the baby.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  Robert shrugged. “I didn’t ask him.”

  “I wonder where Clem is?”

  “Maybe he’s gone back to Smith’s Ridge.”

  “I hope so. I feel bad leaving Hegarty there alone.”

  William put his empty plate at his feet and eased back against a fallen log. He knew Hegarty could look after himself, but it could get lonely out in the hills with no company and only a basic hut for shelter.

  Once more Robert cut into his thoughts. “How long do you think we’ll be on the road?”

  William shrugged his shoulders. “Unless we can find someone to agist the cattle we’ll have to keep doing this. Moving them to the long stretches of crown land where there’s feed and water.” He held Robert’s gaze. “I told you we could be gone a long time.”

  “I’m not complaining. I’d rather be on the move and have to cut up the occasional cow than watch sheep drop dead and pick wool off their carcass.” Robert’s usually cheerful look was serious. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking I won’t go back with you when you return to Smith’s Ridge.”

  William looked up. He studied Robert. “Why not? You’re not upset about the cooking are you? I was only teasing.”

  Robert shook his head. “I’ve been thinking I might join the volunteers preparing to assist the British.”

  “Why?”

  “They want men with good horse skills.”

  “For the unrest in South Africa?” William couldn’t imagine why Robert would involve himself in a fight that had nothing to do with Australia.

  “Well, yes. It might come to nothing but it would be an adventure and give me something to do. If this drought continues, which it seems it might, there is nothing for me at home. I am tired of being a shepherd and …” he looked at William’s empty plate “… a house help.”

  William studied his brother. He understood his frustration. Robert had always been an extra, and never his own man. “What if there was something else you were needed for at home?”

  “You don’t have to invent jobs for me, William. I know how tough it is for everyone.”

  “This is not just for you. And it would help us all. I’ve been thinking on it for a while.”

  “What is it?”

  “With the mines reopened there is much freight work. We’ve got horses and a good wagon with nothing to do and it’s the same at Wildu Creek. We will have time on our hands.”

  Robert studied William with interest.

  “You can be in charge of it,” William hurried on, determined his little brother should stay safely home rather than becoming embroiled in a war half the world away. “It would keep us busy and make some money. What do you say?”

  Robert picked up their plates and unfolded his large frame from the ground. He looked down on William. “Certainly worth thinking about.”

  Twenty-three

  March 1899

  Charles watched the young woman crossing the road in front of him like a cat would watch a mouse, then he too crossed the road and followed at a discreet distance. He had heard that the mixed-race woman who had lived with William Baker had given birth to a child at The Gables. Mrs Ward, who ran the lying-in home, didn’t seem to mind what type of person stayed under her roof.

  He pulled back beside a wall as the young mother glanced over her shoulder, pulled her bundle closer and hurried on her way again. Jessie was her name and he was sure he knew where she was going. It was late afternoon, nearing the end of another hot March day. Most people were inside so they were alone in the street and for that reason he had to stay a long way back. Even though she moved with haste she wasn’t moving all that quickly. Charles had no trouble keeping her in sight.

  He hoped she would prove very useful. He’d found out about her through his latest useful helper: Charles had a young grocery delivery boy who was more than happy to accept extra coin to be his eyes and ears.

&nbs
p; When the boy had passed on the information about the latest resident at The Gables, Charles’s curiosity had been piqued, and then an idea had come to him. A way of tarnishing William Baker in a way that would make Georgina reject him for good. It was a desperate plan but if it paid off he’d at least have a better chance at making her his wife.

  Charles had paid the young boy who carried the groceries to The Gables to whisper in Jessie’s ear that the Protector of Aborigines was in town. Then he’d waited and watched. Charles had taken a guess that she would be fearful for her new baby and he’d been right, by the look of where she was heading. She made her way to the track that headed east of Hawker, keeping to the shadows and the fence lines.

  Sure now she was trying to go home, Charles doubled back, retrieved his horse and took another track. He was guessing she’d make for the first decent patch of trees to find herself a place to spend the night and he was planning to be there before her.

  By the time he saw the young woman stumbling in his direction he was already set up and waiting for her. Jessie gasped as he moved out of the shadows in front of her. She clutched her baby tightly and jerked her head from side to side, searching with wide eyes. The bag she carried over her arm swung against her hip.

  Charles stayed where he was and extended his hand. “Please don’t be alarmed. I was resting here in the shade and I saw you coming along the track.”

  She stayed rigid on the spot, only looking down when the baby began to cry. It was a tiny sound, so pitiful.

  “What are you doing out here in the heat?” Charles asked sympathetically. “You look exhausted. I was having a drink of water. Can I offer you some?”

  The young woman licked her lips but shook her head. The baby’s cries grew louder.

  “Please, I have a saddle bag against a trunk.” Charles waved in the direction of the trees. “Come and sit in the shade a moment. Tend to your baby. I promise I will keep out of your way.”

  She lifted the baby higher, pressed her lips to its head and jiggled it, all the while watching Charles.