by Bonnie Leon
Henry smiled easily. If he’d been up to no good, it didn’t show. “No worries. All that happened was the ship that your goods were scheduled to go on was overloaded. Had to wait for the next one to go out.” He rubbed his chin. “There’s a lot going on up that way. There’s still work being done on the prison, plus they’re trying to get some housing up for the administration. It’s not easy communicating with those blokes.” He rested a hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “It all takes time.” He turned back to the file cabinet and opened a drawer.
“Let’s see here.” He pulled out a shipping order. “Yes. Here it is. That shipped on the first of September. Not so long ago. As I said, deliveries have been held up. And the weather’s given us a little trouble—heavy seas. Your shipment will get there. Be patient.”
“It’s nearly October. Those crates didn’t ship out of the country; they were hauled up the coast.”
“If it will make you feel better, I’ll look into it,” Henry assured him. He focused on John. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“I want you to hold off on the shipment for Mr. Atherton.” “It’s too late for that. They’re loaded and scheduled for departure tomorrow. I’m not about to unload all that timber. Unless, of course, Mr. Atherton doesn’t mind paying the cost of labor and storage.”
John wasn’t sure what to do. He needed to speak with Mr. Atherton. If he was wrong about Hodgsson, it could cost his employer a huge sum. “I’ll be back tomorrow. The ship better not sail until I speak to you.”
“It’ll go with the tide. I’ve no control over that.” Henry’s eyes were hard.
“I’ll be back,” John said and strode toward the door, certain Henry was running some kind of swindle.
“I expect payment,” Gavin demanded. “If I don’t have it in a week, consider our contract invalid.” He followed John out.
The men headed down the street. “You think he’s taken those supplies for himself?” Gavin asked. “And he’s selling them and keeping the money?”
“Could be. We have to see if your goods were sent out, and if they were, when and where.” He walked faster. “I’ve got to speak to Mr. Atherton.” He stopped in front of the mercantile. “I’ll see you here in the morning. With a bit of luck we’ll get some answers. See what you can find out about your shipment and if anyone else has been having trouble with deliveries or payments.”
Late in the day, John rode into the Athertons’ yard. He hoped it wasn’t too late to save his employer’s goods.
After explaining what he knew, he and Mr. Atherton headed back to Port Jackson. John felt responsible. He should have voiced his suspicions sooner.
Contemplating the consequences Henry faced if he were caught in a swindle, John smiled. He’d pay dearly, and the thought of that gave John satisfaction. Retribution would be sweet.
The sky turned pink and when the last of the sunlight faded, John and Mr. Atherton were forced to stop for the night. They tied their horses, lay out their saddle blankets, and settled down. The air was warm so there was no need for a fire.
The night was filled with sounds of the bush—cicadas thrummed, frogs chirped from the nearby river, and a dingo yipped in the distance. John rested against his saddle and chewed on a piece of dried meat. Staring up at the night sky, apprehension stirred in him. He’d acted hastily. What if he were wrong and had dragged Mr. Atherton all the way to Port Jackson without cause? He’d be a laughingstock and maybe worse. One word from his employer and he could end up back in prison. And Henry would be free to continue spending his money.
“I thought his prices were a bit too reasonable,” Mr. Atherton said. “I’m usually more cautious in my business dealings.” He let out a breath. “I’m grateful you were keeping an eye out.”
“I should have said something about his past. And I would have, except I wasn’t sure if he’d changed. I didn’t know with certainty that he couldn’t be trusted. We’re still not sure.”
“You’re right there. I hope this is all a misunderstanding. If not, there are a lot of fine gents who’ve been dealing with him and who have a lot to lose.”
“I hope I’m wrong,” John said, but he didn’t mean it. He wanted his revenge. This was the perfect opportunity. He’d hoped to catch Henry in wrongdoing, and now it seemed his need was about to be satisfied. His actions hadn’t been unselfish.
The morning air was cool and damp. While John and William Atherton downed a dry biscuit and water, chattering birds serenaded them.
They saddled their horses and headed toward Port Jackson. “I’ve a bad feeling.” Mr. Atherton rested a hand on his saddle horn. “Hope we get there before that ship sails. I’m not about to let that timber go until I know it’s heading to the right people for the right price.”
As they approached the colony, John tightened his hold on the reins. God, let the ship still be in the harbor. The two men crested a hill overlooking Port Jackson and the bay.
“There it is,” Mr. Atherton said.
John blew out a relieved breath. Even if he was right about Henry, at least the timber was safe.
They tied their horses and walked to Henry’s office. Something felt wrong. The building looked dark and the door was ajar.
They stepped inside. The room was in disarray. Cabinet drawers stood open, papers littered the floor. Henry was nowhere to be seen.
“Seems you were right,” Mr. Atherton said. “He’s run. And it’s a good assumption he’s gone off with whatever funds he had, including my money.”
“You still have your timber.”
“I do at that. And I’d best see it remains here.” He headed for the door.
“I’ll find Henry. The money’s sure to be with him.” John faced Mr. Atherton. “Sorry, sir. This is my fault.”
“No use blaming yourself. You didn’t know he’d do something like this.”
“I suspected.”
Atherton stared at John, but there was no anger in his eyes. “Go on, now. See if you can get someone to help you hunt him down.”
John went straight to the stables.
“He left at first light,” the stable hand said. “Headed north on horseback. Told him he was a fool to try. It’s rough going, no roads.” The man shook his head. “He’ll end up a pile of bones.”
“You think I’d have any luck following him?” asked John.
“Doubt it. The brush is thick that way and there are canyons and the like.” He shrugged. “He might leave a trail to follow.” The man scratched stubble on his chin. “Ye could try a black tracker. They know their way, and if Henry stays with his horse, a tracker can find him.”
“Right then. Thank you.” John went in search of Gavin.
Gavin had no difficulty finding a tracker who was willing to trade his skills for a modest amount of tobacco. By late morning, he, John, and another man named Jack had set out after Henry. Jack’s boss had been having trouble with Hodgsson, so when he found out a swindle was in progress, he insisted one of his men go.
In spite of the tracker, John felt ill at ease riding into the bush. He had no weapon and there were stories about those who’d tried to find their way through. The word was that none had made it.
He eyed the Aborigine tracker. He was small of stature, but he moved fast and seemed to have no difficulty following Henry’s trail. Obviously he was skilled; John just hoped he could be trusted.
By late afternoon, the sun blazed hot and merciless. The brush seemed to close in around them. And while they fought for every foot the tracker seemed tireless. The horses blew air from their nostrils, tossed their heads, and shied from stickery plants and scuttling lizards. Their coats glistened with sweat.
“We’re gonna have to lead the horses,” Gavin said, pulling to a stop and dismounting. John and Jack did the same. The tracker kept moving. There was no rest.
They pushed their way through heavy underbrush. Stubby branches with barbed leaves caught at their skin and clothes.
As they moved along a narrow ridge with a dee
p crevasse falling away below them, Jack said, “Keep an eye out for snakes. They’ll get ye before ye know what happened.”
John eyed the ravine and thought snakes were the least of his worries. He wondered how Henry had made it this far. The man had no stamina or courage.
The three men stopped. John drank from his canteen and then asked Gavin, “Is the tracker sure Henry came this way? I can’t see him getting this far, not in this kind of terrain.”
“He’s a fine reputation,” Gavin said, watching the black man move ahead easily. “We can’t afford to lose him.”
Gavin moved on, rocks and dirt skittering down the cliff side.
“I’m not so sure this was a good idea,” Jack said. “Maybe we ought t’ go back.” He wiped sweat from his face. “Henry’s gonna die out ’ere anyway.”
John knew Jack spoke the truth. It made sense to stop and let Henry simply destroy himself. But he wanted to face him, accuse him, and then turn him over to the authorities. “He couldn’t have gone much farther,” he said. “He’s never been a good rider, and this kind of country will do him in. He can’t be moving very fast. We’re probably close.”
Silently, the men followed the tracker inland and away from the ravine. Abruptly the Aborigine stopped. He squatted and motioned for the men to remain out of sight.
“He’s found something,” Gavin whispered, peering ahead.
John couldn’t see anything. He glanced at the setting sun and hoped they’d found his cousin. They couldn’t go much farther before the night turned black.
The Aborigine motioned them to move forward. The three joined him and peered around a eucalypt. There, sitting in the dusk, was Henry. He’d found a small clearing and had started a fire. Resting his back against a log, he picked sticks and leaves from his clothing and then used a knife to dig slivers out of his hands. A pistol rested on his lap.
“We found him,” John whispered, feeling exhilaration. He nodded his thanks at the tracker. The black man moved back and rested against the bare trunk of a grass tree.
“What should we do now?” Jack asked quietly.
“We ought to go in there and arrest him.” Gavin brandished his musket.
Jack’s eyes widened. “What about the pistol? He might shoot us.”
Gavin scowled at Jack. “He’s one man. We’re three.”
“Let’s wait until dark,” John suggested. “That way he won’t see us until we want him to.”
The three hunkered down and waited for the last of the light to withdraw. John kept an eye on the tracker, wondering if he might go off into the night and leave them. He leaned close to Gavin and whispered, “Can we trust the black to stay with us?”
“Like I said, he’s a good man. I’ve known him awhile. No worries there.” Gavin walked back to his horse and lifted a length of rope from around the saddle horn. Holding it up, he said, “We’ll likely need this.”
“I could use a pistol,” John said.
Gavin gaped at him. “Right. I forgot you’re a prisoner.” He grabbed a pistol out of his holster. “I’ll say nothing ’bout this.” As it got darker, they watched Henry nervously eye the brush around him and continue to add wood to the fire. He took something out of his saddlebag and sat back to eat it.
“He’ll manage to set the whole place ablaze if he’s not careful,” Jack whispered.
Remaining out of sight, John stood and stretched his legs. “How’s he look to you?”
“Tired,” Gavin said with a smile.
“Ought to be easy,” Jack said.
“I’d say it’s time to surprise him then, eh? What do you say?” John savored the idea of the confrontation. He’d dreamed of it. His hand on the pistol, he approached. Jack and Gavin followed, muskets ready.
As they moved closer, Henry heard them. He picked up his pistol. “Who is it? I’ll shoot!” He stood and waved the gun about.
“Not a bright idea,” John said, stepping out of the shadows. “There are three of us and only one of you.” He smiled.
Pointing his pistol at John, then Gavin and then Jack, Henry’s hand shook. “What are you doing here?”
“We come to talk to ye,” Jack said, his voice hard.
John smiled. “You got yourself caught this time, Henry.”
“Caught? What do you mean? I’m just on my way north. Nothing wrong with that.”
“What fool would try making the trip overland? There’s ships that can take you. Unless you were in a hurry.” Gavin grinned.
John stepped closer. “We went by your office. Looks like you left in a rush.”
Henry didn’t respond.
“You on your way out of town with someone else’s money perchance? Figuring on setting up another swindle farther north?”
“I’ve business in Newcastle.”
“That would explain the condition of your office?”
“My office? I don’t know anything about that.”
John fingered the pistol. “Perhaps you ought to head back to Port Jackson, then, so you can see the damage done by the hoodlums who must have broke in. You’ll need to tend to it.”
“I’ll see to it when I’ve completed my business.”
“You’ve business to attend to in Port Jackson.” John stepped closer to Henry. “You can die here or you can come with us.”
“I’m going nowhere with you.” He brandished his firearm.
His pistol trained on Henry, Jack edged around behind him. “Don’t figure ye want a brawl, now do ye?”
Henry’s eyes narrowed as he looked from one man to the other, then he settled on John. “You’re the cause of this.”
“No. I’d say you’re the culprit.” He glanced at the men with him. “Now, would you like to argue or will you let us truss you up nicely?”
Gavin pulled himself up to his full height and grasped the rope he had draped over his shoulder. “I can assure you that you don’t want to fight us.”
Henry looked about like a cornered animal. He took a step toward the bush, then seemingly realizing the futility of any escape plan, he dropped his arms and his gun and held out his hands. “This isn’t the end of it.”
“That’s right, it’s not.” Gavin tied his hands, pulling it tight with a jerk and then knotting it. Henry winced. “You’ll be paying me every farthing you owe.”
“I don’t owe you a copper.” Sweat on Henry’s face glistened in the firelight. “Take up your complaint with the blokes who got your shipment.”
“And who might they be?”
Henry hesitated and then said, “I don’t keep all that in my head. I’d have to look at the records.” Sweat trailed into his eyes. He looked from one man to the other and finally settled his gaze on Gavin. “Your goods are safe. And so is your money.”
“Fine then,” Gavin said. “Good thing we came along to see you back to Port Jackson safely.” He smirked.
A broken man, Henry Hodgsson stood before the magistrate. John tried to relax the muscles in his shoulders. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. He’d dreamed of the day Henry paid for his crimes. He deserved a harsh sentence. Not only had he destroyed John’s life, but he’d deceived and stolen from several New South Wales businessmen, freeing them of a goodly sum. Gavin had retrieved most of his funds, but the shipment was never returned.
The judge glared at Henry. John had always thought his cousin to be of small stature, and now with his shoulders hunched forward and his body trembling, he seemed shriveled and was clearly no longer a menace.
“Henry Hodgsson, for your crimes you shall spend fourteen years hard labor in Newcastle Prison.”
Henry sniveled. “Please. Have mercy on me.”
“You’ve shown no mercy and none will be given,” the judge said with finality.
Cheers broke out from several who’d been cheated and had shown up to witness Henry’s hearing.
Henry was dragged from the courtroom.
John stood in place for a long while. Rather than feeling satisfaction, he was aware
only of the bleakness of a life lost. Finally, he walked out. It was time to go home.
While John traveled back to the Atherton farm, his mind pondered something Hannah had once said. She’d quoted Scripture from the book of Romans. “Beloved, avenge not yourselves,but rather give place to wrath; for it is written, Vengeanceis mine, I will repay, says the Lord. Therefore if your enemyhungers, feed him; If he thirsts, give him a drink; for in so doingyou will heap coals of fire on his head. Do not be overcome byevil, but overcome evil with good.”
He knew the verses, but they’d never meant much to him before. Now in light of what had happened, he realized vengeance provided no peace. What he’d wanted and waited for so long offered only emptiness.
Forgiveness is good for the soul, Hannah had told him.
But how do I forgive a man who has stolen my life? Regretfully John knew he’d attained nothing by Henry’s punishment. He still couldn’t forgive him for what he’d done. There’s nothingmore I can do, John decided. I give it to you, Lord.
John left it at that. Thinking on it would do little good. Besides, he was weary—more so than he could remember. All he wanted now was sleep.
When he rode into the yard, Mr. Atherton stepped out of the house to greet him. Perhaps to send me back to prison, he thought. Deservedly so. I let him and everyone else down. When word got out that John and Henry were related, a handful of businessmen who’d lost money and goods had wanted him returned to Port Jackson. However, they had no say. It was up to Mr. Atherton.
“Evening, John,” Mr. Atherton said, walking up to him.
“Good evening.” John slid off his horse.
“What was the outcome of the trial?”
“Henry’s going to prison.” John’s hands were sweating. He moved the reins to one hand and wiped the palm of the other on his breeches. “Only a small portion of the moneys were recovered. Most the men who did business with him were not compensated.”
Mr. Atherton nodded. “Too bad. But I’m glad Hodgsson will pay for his crimes.” He clapped John on the back. “I owe you a debt of gratitude. If not for you, my timber and my money would have been lost.”
