Daring Masquerade

by Margaret Tanner

  "Time we got out." He sighed regretfully.

  They left the water together. As the golden rays of the sun shafted down on him, Harry caught her breath. Dripping with water, his dark hair plastered to his head, muscles rippling in his arms and shoulders, he looked like a Grecian God. Even the scars on his chest did not detract from the sheer perfection of his naked body.

  He picked up a towel and patted her skin dry, while she did the same to him. After they were dressed, he built up the campfire and set the billycan on to boil. While he went fishing, she laid out their bedding and prepared damper.

  In no time he returned with a couple of nice fish. He cleaned them and put them in the pan to cook.

  "Fresh fish, damper and smoky tea," he said. "You can't beat it."

  "I know. Sleeping under the stars rolled up in a blanket next to your campfire. Heaven on earth."

  As the sun dropped behind the mountains, the sky turned blood red, faded to pink then gray. Nocturnal animals came out to go about their business. The mopokes called out to each other, the bullfrogs croaked in unison and the wild dogs took up the call. Night fell quickly in the mountains and the air became cold and crisp. With the flickering flame of their campfire throwing out a comforting orange glow, peace enveloped her.

  After a long passionate session of lovemaking tired them out, they slept wrapped in each other's arms, while on the other side of the world, the clouds of war intensified.

  * * *

  "Well, my darling," Ross said next morning. "This is our last breakfast on the mountain for a while."

  She sipped from a mug of tea, and nibbled toast cooked on a fork over the flames. "You really are leaving his afternoon?"

  "Yes."

  "Can I go to Melbourne and see you sail?" she asked.

  "No, I'm not sure when I'm sailing. For security reasons they'll only let us know at the last minute. Come to the station with Jack to see me off."

  "But, I want to go to Melbourne with you."

  "Please, I'll know you're safe if you stay here."

  After washing the dishes and putting them back in the hut ready for next time, she collected the bag containing her personal papers. He extinguished the fire and saddled their horses. As they rode away, the sun climbed into the sky, streaking it with pink.

  * * *

  Harry always thought Ross a good looking man, but in his uniform he was devastatingly handsome, a princely warrior.

  For his final meal with them Mrs. Bates roasted a piece of seasoned beef accompanied by his favorite vegetables and covered them with lashings of gravy. The old lady's eyes filled with tears as she kissed him goodbye. Even old Hughie's eyes misted over as he closed the gates behind them. Fighting to control her tears, Harry sat between the two men as Jack drove, his features set in grim lines.

  "You're not going to cry, are you?" Ross broke the somber silence descending upon them. "I want to carry a picture of my wild, reckless Harry bidding me a laughing farewell. I'll be back soon, my love, and the two of us will never be parted again, I swear."

  "Of course, we'll be together again soon. There will probably be three of us by then."

  She forced herself to sound cheerful even though her heart lay shattered. He must take happy memories away with him. They would sustain him in his darkest hour.

  She sang bush ballads, her voice floating on the perfumed bush air. Ross joined in, his baritone a perfect foil for her soprano. Jack mumbled something about not being able to sing, but he did join in the final chorus of the song, 'Australia Will Be There.'

  Numerous people congregated on the station platform, a couple of young soldiers, an elderly married couple, and several farmers waiting to collect freight from the train.

  "Good luck, Ross." The stationmaster shook his hand.

  The train steamed into the station, spitting out a plume of black smoke and sooty embers.

  Jack shook Ross' hand. "Take care of yourself, son. Don't worry, everything will be all right here."

  He thoughtfully moved away to give Harry and Ross some privacy to say their final goodbye.

  Ross pulled her into his arms and his lips claimed hers in a long, desperate kiss. He strained her so hard against him that his chest crushed her breasts.

  "Goodbye, Harry, my love. I'll write as soon as I can."

  "Goodbye." She stepped back as the guard called out for the passengers to board. "Good luck, take care. I love you." She gave him the thumbs up sign.

  As the train chugged out of the station, she sprinted beside it for a little way and he hung his head out the window of the first class carriage. She imagined his last sight of her was of wild, red curls bobbing in the wind and a smile parting her lips as she waved at him.

  The train thundered around a curve in the line. He was gone. Sobs tore at her throat and tears cascaded hotly down each cheek. As Jack helped her out to the buggy, the stationmaster waved to them on his way back to the ticket office.

  "How will I survive without him?" she whispered.

  "You will, my dear. You've got guts and determination. You made Ross happy. All we have to do now is keep Devil's Ridge going and pray God will bring him safely home."

  Chapter Twelve

  A week after Ross departed, Harry and Jack attended a meeting in town about the expansion of the timber mill. The Mayor chaired the meeting and Clyde Bromley stomped around, fat and perspiring.

  Harry had told Jack about Clyde's attack at Andrew's party. "I ought to punch that pompous little bastard on the nose," he growled.

  The hall was packed with townspeople and a few middle-aged farmers. All the young men were away at the war, or had been killed on Gallipoli.

  "A few selfish individuals are trying to stop progress." Clyde waved his pudgy fists. "I intend upgrading and expanding the mill, bringing prosperity to the whole town."

  "What about the damage done to the rivers and creeks?" Harry jumped to her feet. "The townsfolk have to drink that water."

  "Ross Calvert has been using crown land for years without paying a penny for it," Clyde shot back.

  "He's kept it free from vermin and blackberries." Jack sprang up. "He burned fire breaks on his own land to protect that forest when the bushfires came through. Now you want to cut it all down."

  "We need the jobs," someone else said, and other voices brayed in agreement.

  The hall was packed with Bromley sympathizers.

  "You'll rip the heart out of the mountain, rape the forest and then leave." Harry, ignoring the shocked gasps, ploughed on. "You've done it before. Earlstown. Graychurch. Wattlegrove. You took the timber from around those towns and left them in ruins."

  "Order." Mayor Peters banged a wooden mallet on the table.

  "The authorities need timber for the war effort," Clyde declared, his tone pious. "I'd be falling down in my duty to the Empire if I didn't try to help the government."

  She shook off Jack's restraining hand and charged towards the stage. "Help! Enlist if you want to help the Empire," she yelled. "You don't have the guts?"

  A shocked murmur rippled through the audience. Clyde sent her a poisonous glare.

  "Please, Mrs. Calvert, such language," one of the council members spluttered.

  "My husband is on his way to fight in France. You waited until he left before trying to ruin his land. You despicable creature. You coward."

  Clyde turned red in the face. Sweat poured down his face and trickled off his chin. "I want this mad woman arrested. I demand it, Mayor. I have never been so insulted," he blustered.

  "Yeah, arrest me," she dared them. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself." She turned on the mayor. "This meeting is rigged. How much did Bromley pay you?"

  Uproar broke out as the different sides hurled insults at each other. Jack came up and grabbed her arm, literally dragging her out of the hall.

  "Come on, or Bromley will end up lynching you. My God, young Harry, you almost caused a riot." He chuckled as he helped her into the buggy. "Did you see Bromley's face when you c
alled him a coward? He looked ready to have a seizure."

  "I wish he had. But I was awful," she conceded, calming down a little now. "They tried to insinuate Ross used that land illegally. That's what really made my blood boil. Bromley accused him when he wasn't here to defend himself. I lost my temper. I shouldn't have but I couldn't help it."

  "You did well." He patted her hand. "Probably went a bit too far, but they deserved it."

  "I miss him so much."

  "I know you do, girlie, so do I. He's the son I never had. Those last few days before he left were the happiest I've ever seen him."

  * * *

  The mail was dropped at the letter box every second day and Harry rode down to collect it and the papers so they could get the latest war news.

  A month after Ross left she collected a letter from the mail box. It was postmarked from Western Australia and she eagerly ripped the envelope open.

  Dear Harry,

  We are finally on our way. By the time you receive this letter we will be well and truly out of Australian waters. Spirits are high among the troops, only boys most of them, of course, who think they are embarking on a great adventure.

  She scanned the neatly penned lines, not particularly informative, and she realized he was being careful with what he said in the letter, to avoid censorship by the authorities. No flowery lines declaring his love for her; he was not that type of man. An intensely private person, he would not want anyone else reading his innermost thoughts and feelings.

  Write to me, Harry. Give me all the news. A letter a week you promised, and I'm going to hold you to it. Give my best regards to Jack and Mrs. Bates.

  All my love, Ross.

  xxxxxxxxxxxxx

  Not much after a month of silence. She pressed her lips to the crosses to claim his kisses. Slipping the letter into her shirt pocket, so it rested near her heart, she put the rest of the mail and newspapers in her saddlebag and cycled back to the homestead.

  * * *

  As Ross sailed away from Australia, the timber men moved into town. One of their neighbors, an elderly man who had two sons serving overseas, rode over to see them. He didn't dismount from his horse but spoke to Jack in a quick, angry staccato.

  "Bromley's mill is working practically around the clock now. I heard a rumor he plans to cut a road through Ross' paddocks. I thought it only fair to warn you. He wants access to the timber at the back of Devil's Ridge."

  "They won't get away with this." Jack muttered a curse. "Thanks for letting us know Dave. I'll sit up with a gun all night if need be to thwart those bastards, I swear it."

  "I'll join you," Harry promised.

  "I don't want any trouble," Dave said. "With my two boys away I'm helpless if they turn on me."

  A few days later flames shot up into the sky from their back paddock.

  Jack squinted into the sun. "It's those bloody timber men, they're burning the undergrowth."

  The smoke became so bad Mrs. Bates closed all the windows. As the wind picked up, burning cinders peppered the back yard.

  "If they're not bloody careful they'll set the mountains on fire," Jack growled. "Us too. Thank God the worst heat of summer is gone. I'm going over to see them. What the bloody hell do they think they're doing?"

  "I'll come with you."

  "No, stay here, Harry. In case of spot fires."

  Mr. Wu, the Chinese gardener, ran around in a frenzy, his pigtail bobbing up and down as he stamped on the burning leaves dropping on his lawn. Hughie helped Harry wet bags in case they needed them, and they filled up barrels of water from the closest dam and rolled them into the wagonette. Guilt weighed her down at having to let the old man do most of the heavy lifting. She helped him as best she could, but dared not risk doing anything that might cause her to lose Ross' baby.

  She drove the wagon to the back of the house through blinding smoke. The horse became skittish and it took all her skill and strength to keep it in check. Smoke blotted out the sun, Jack was right, Bromley deliberately planned to smoke them out.

  I'll never leave here. They'll have to kill me first.

  Her breath came out in harsh labored pants. Burning leaves, driven by the wind, peppered the ground as she and Hughie darted amongst the pine trees trying to smother them with wet bags.

  Where was Jack? Dusk fell. Still he didn't return. The smoke started to clear now; the timber men must have decided to put their fires out and go home.

  Panic built up. Surely they would not have done anything to Jack. She got Hughie to saddle her horse and rode in the direction of the burn-off. She was shocked on reaching the border of their property where it joined the crown land. For half a mile or more Ross' paddocks smoldered, blackened and ruined, grotesque in the fading light.

  You won't get away with this. I'll put the law on you, Bromley, you despicable pig.

  Where was Jack? She rode around searching for him. Her heart slammed against her rib cage, her hands trembled.

  "Jack, where are you? Jack!" She screamed his name.

  The light faded; soon it would be pitch black.

  "It's Harry. Where are you?" she called out, her desperation mounting.

  She stopped to listen. Above the chatter of night birds, had someone called out to her? Dismounting, she proceeded on foot, pushing her way through the thick bush.

  "Jack."

  "I'm over here." She almost collapsed with relief when he finally answered. "Those bastards tried to kill me."

  She forced her way deeper into the bushy undergrowth, ignoring the small branches snapping back on her. Suddenly, she tripped over the body of Jack's horse and fell to her knees. Fear such as she had never known before almost overwhelmed her. She gritted her teeth and dragged herself upright, clinging to a sapling for support while she mustered her courage to continue searching, instead of making a dash for the relative safety of the homestead.

  "Where are you?" Her trembling legs felt weighted down with lead as she struggled onwards.

  "Here."

  A bush shook a few feet away to her right.

  "I think my ribs are broken. Bastards sunk their boots into me."

  She knelt down beside him and tried to pull him out, but he screamed in agony.

  "When I tried to get away, they shot my horse out from under me. Lucky they didn't kill me."

  "Can you move at all?"

  "Let me wriggle out of here then you can help me up."

  The bushes moved. Groaning loudly, he dragged himself out and collapsed at her feet.

  "Give me a hand up," he gasped.

  On hands and knees he managed to grab hold of her legs. She braced herself to take his weight as he pulled himself upright.

  "Can you walk? My horse is only a few yards away."

  With him leaning heavily against her and groaning with pain, they made it to the horse, still waiting patiently where she had left it. Even with her help it took several attempts before he could mount. She clambered up behind him.

  He moaned, gasping for breath. What if his lungs had been punctured? He was doubled over in pain. Perched up behind him, she could not reach the reins, but the horse knew its way home. What a nightmare ride. If he collapsed and fell off the horse she wouldn't be able to get him back on again.

  A veil of darkness shrouded the bush now, but in the distance the lights from the homestead stood out, a welcoming beacon. As they trotted into the front yard, Hughie rushed out, while Mrs. Bates stood on the verandah wringing her hands."

  "Hell, Jack what happened?"

  "He's been bashed up."

  Hughie muttered several swear words that would have shocked her had she not been so upset. Between the two of them they managed to get Jack off the horse and half carry him into the homestead.

  Harry let out a shocked breath when the lamplight showed the extent of his injuries. One of Jack's eyes was swollen and almost closed, with an ugly bleeding cut over it. Lacerations covered his face and his nose dripped blood.

  "Who beat you up like this?"
Hughie asked as Mrs. Bates hurried off to bring in hot water and the first aid supplies.

  "Some of those timber cutters Bromley brought in attacked me. I tried to ride off and they shot my horse out from under me. When they got me to the ground, they sunk their boots in."

  "Mongrels," Hughie fumed. "If I was a few years younger I'd bloody well kill them with my bare hands."

  Harry gently bathed Jack's face, then helped the housekeeper bind his ribs.

  "We'll get the doctor in the morning," she said. "I'm reporting what happened to the police. They aren't going to get away with this. We'll gather up the men and confront them."

  "There aren't any men," Hughie said. "The last of them left this morning, ungrateful mongrels."

  "What do you mean, there aren't any men?" Jack demanded, having recovered a little with the aid of a glass of brandy.

  "Up and left. Bromley offered them more money and the mongrels took off."

  "I knew some of them went, but all of them?"

  "Archie's still here, he's riding the boundaries though. You know how he likes his own company. Told them to go to hell, the same as I did."

  "Bloody cheek." Jack groaned with pain.

  Harry passed a trembling hand over her aching forehead. Nausea rose up in her throat and she gulped it down. She wanted to scream but couldn't afford the luxury. Couldn't think straight, fear and exhaustion had dulled her brain. In the morning she would work out what they could do.

  "You'll have to stay here in the homestead, Jack, so we can watch you." She didn't recognize this wavering voice as belonging to her.

  "Okay, I'm not up to arguing," he confessed with a grimace. "Hughie can help me to Eric's room."

  "Thank you for your help today, Hughie," she managed to get out. "And for not going off with Bromley."

  "The Calverts have been good to me over the years, I won't desert you. Only wish I wasn't so old and useless."

  She stumbled over to him and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for being so loyal to the Calverts. You're not useless, either. Bromley is doing this on purpose. He's going to try and destroy Devil's Ridge while Ross is away."