Wild Lands

by Nicole Alexander

  ‘Come.’

  Kate ignored James’s outstretched hand. She was already on her feet and moving away from the spider. ‘The danger has passed?’

  The Major shrugged. ‘I saw nothing.’

  Bronzewing gestured animatedly to the two natives. The younger of the group, Jardi, padded towards Kate and the Major.

  ‘It is dark soon, we rest here.’ The area Jardi directed them to was slightly uphill, across a narrow open space to where trees grouped as if planted. ‘Stay, all of you.’

  James and Mr Southerland led Kate to the stand of trees.

  ‘Who do you think that man is, James? You know this Bronzewing, don’t you?’ It was not the first time the overseer had asked the question.

  ‘I know of him, yes, but as you said earlier, George, for the moment he is someone in whom we must place our safety until such a time as his service is no longer required,’ James replied stiffly.

  Kate squirrelled her eyebrows together. ‘That is too cryptic.’

  ‘He’s on the run then?’ George Southerland queried, as Kate sat tiredly within the naturally curved ring of timber. ‘I’m not surprised. Only convicts or those of mixed blood take to the bush. Still, we’ve got nothing worth the taking and he didn’t have to help us.’

  They passed a waterbag back and forth. Kate wanted more of the liquid gold. She could have drunk a river. But the overseer was adamant that the precious water be conserved and so she contented herself with the bark-tinted residue that laced her tongue.

  ‘How far is it to Mr Stewart’s run?’ asked Kate. Her tiredness was making her head ache.

  ‘I don’t know, Kate.’ Mr Southerland rested the stock of his musket in the dirt between his legs. ‘Rest now while you’ve the chance.’

  Kate awoke, teeth chattering. Something hard and cold pressed against her skin. She scrabbled in the gloom, rubbed at her eyes, wondering where she was. She had no sense of time or place, no recall as to location. The dark was an unending blackness. The earth freezing and the air beyond cold. But there was something … soft snoring, and it came from nearby. The noise eased Kate’s mind, turning the pitch-black familiar. Mrs Horton was not a quiet sleeper. The woman was worse than Madge if that were possible, the way she tossed and turned. And her bowels? Kate would never understand how a woman’s body could turn food so sour. She sat up, wiping a thin line of saliva from her cheek, brushing at the dirt that had stuck to the drool. The scratchy blanket must be somewhere on the floor. She reached out a hand, searching for the covering, but all that she found was a handful of dirt and leaves.

  It wasn’t the cook snoring next to her. It was James. And no blanket had slipped from the bed. The acknowledgment of where Kate was and why struck her forcefully.

  A murky light began to stream through the dense timber, throwing into relief the straight-sided trees that towered all around. A little further downhill the figure of their guide, Bronzewing, was visible. He lay on his stomach. The moon rose gradually, tinting their surrounds in a sepia light, sending beams of paleness to coax away distant shadows. It was as if the man who lived on the bright orb had come down to earth and was busily pulling at branches and shrubs so that the light could inch its way into the very worst of places.

  A few feet away from Kate, James coughed and sat up, stretching out his legs. ‘You should be sleeping,’ he told her. ‘I’ll change watch with George.’ Bent low to the ground the Major moved inconspicuously, the crushing of leaves and twigs the only sign of the direction he travelled.

  The moon lifted above the ridge of trees in the distance, rimming the jagged skyline. Bronzewing hadn’t moved. The man’s long legs were slightly apart, the toes of his boots braced by the ground. He angled a musket in the direction of the moonlight and was partially concealed by brush to any that may approach. There was no sign of his native companions.

  Getting carefully to her feet Kate travelled the short distance downhill. She was only a few yards from her destination when Adam heard her. He moved swiftly, reaching up to grab hold of an arm and pulling her roughly to the ground. He flipped her onto her back and covered her mouth with a hand. Kate bit down hard and stared up at him, her chest heaving.

  ‘Quiet,’ he murmured.

  His attention remained on the area in front of them. Kate released his hand, the taste of blood in her mouth. She could feel the heat of his body, the weight of his arm on her shoulder and still he hadn’t freed her. Then, very slowly, he turned back to where she lay. He studied her almost lazily, as if it were not impolite to do so, as if they had all the time in the world. Then with deliberate slowness, he withdrew his hand and resumed his sentry duty. Kate lay quite still. In the moonlight the muscles in his forearm strained against the cream of his shirt. A vein pulsed in his neck. When he caught her staring Kate rolled onto her stomach.

  Briefly examining the bloody bite mark on the soft fleshy part of his palm, Adam pushed a pistol across the dirt towards Kate, along with an ammunition pouch. Swiftly unplugging the stopper from the powder bag, he passed it across as well. Kate carefully loaded the weapon and then pointed it out into the semi-darkness, although she had no idea at what.

  Slowly three figures emerged. Dark shapes that moved soundlessly towards them, the tips of long spears glinting in the light of the rising moon. One of the men Kate recognised. She’d not soon forget that mass of hair or the scarred torso, nor his murder of Mrs Horton.

  Kate took a long, slow breath. Bronzewing’s finger rested on the musket’s trigger. The men trod noiselessly towards them, stealthy, and then just as abruptly they became unsettled. They backed away to merge once again with the dark.

  Adam relaxed as he leant the musket on the shrubby barrier between their attackers.

  ‘Why have they left?’ Kate whispered.

  Turning so that he lay side-on to Kate and, resting on his arm, Adam drew her attention to the trees underneath which Kate had slept. In the moonlight one of the upper branches seemed to hold something. There was a lone, narrow silhouette that stretched the length of the timber some fifteen feet from the ground.

  ‘Burial ground,’ he told her.

  Kate’s eyes grew round. ‘Are we safe?’

  Adam turned to her. ‘It seems so,’ his eyes studied her, ‘at least for tonight.’

  Kate considered his words. ‘Why did you refuse to return and bury the Hardys? They were good people.’

  ‘It may have placed you and the others in danger. It was best that we leave that place and head for safety,’ he replied simply. ‘This land is at war with itself, miss. There is no point courting trouble.’

  Kate plied the soft dirt with hesitant fingers. ‘I thought ill of you.’

  ‘It’s to be expected.’

  ‘Expected?’ Kate repeated indignantly.

  ‘Keep your voice down.’ He peered over the top of the branches concealing them and, satisfied they were alone, continued, ‘I don’t expect you to understand, miss. In my experience all are quick to judge and slow to see reason. The Major said you were a lady’s companion. Why would you travel to such a remote place? Did no-one advise you of the dangers?’

  ‘Dangers, yes.’ But the rest of his queries Kate couldn’t answer, not anymore. Her reasons for leaving the environs of Sydney seemed ridiculous now. ‘Why are you with those natives?’

  ‘When my mother died Bidjia took me in, adopted me if you like, and raised me as part of his clan.’

  ‘And your English? Did a missionary teach you?’

  ‘There was a settler family nearby, the Lycetts. They had a boy my age. They were good to me.’

  ‘What about your father? Are none of your family alive?’

  ‘No,’ Adam said adamantly, ‘none.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be.’ He fingered the shell bracelet around his wrist. ‘Bidjia’s people believe that the spirits of the dead travel to the sky, remaining with the creator beings for all eternity. The old become young and the sick are healed. It’s a nice thought
.’

  They both turned their faces heavenwards. There were scant stars with a bright moon illuminating the sky but those that could be seen appeared fragile and so very far away.

  ‘I think of my mother when the morning star rises,’ Adam said, his voice soft. ‘The Yolngu people say that the star draws a rope behind her on rising that’s attached to the earth and that through her people are able to communicate with their dead loved ones.’

  ‘So we remember them always.’ Kate thought of her parents.

  ‘At least it will be clear going over the next few days,’ Adam said, changing the subject.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Look at the moon, there’s no ring circling it, so we can be assured of dry weather, and he sits a little to one side, so there’ll be a wind coming – a westerly, I’d imagine, the way it’s angled. Generally the weather’s always calm about a full moon in the colder months but all you have to do is look to the sky to check.’

  Kate thought of the leech in the Reverend’s jar. While he’d been watching a creature through glass, this man had been observing the heavens. ‘What else is up there?’

  ‘The emu in the sky – that’s the Milky Way. You can see the long, stretched-out shape of the bird but it changes through the seasons. Come August it will look like an emu egg, ready to hatch. That’s the month when I was initiated into the tribe.’

  ‘What did they do?’ Kate had never had such a conversation, especially with a white man brought up by Aboriginals, who chose to roam the wilds. She wondered where he truly felt at home – in her world or that of the natives.

  Adam chuckled. ‘I can’t tell you that, miss. It’s man’s business, as women have their business.’

  ‘Why do men always think they know best where women are concerned?’ Kate didn’t mean to sound huffy, but it was always the same.

  ‘I’d imagine that most of us don’t, miss, but perhaps it’s expected that we should.’

  Kate didn’t anticipate such an answer. ‘Mr Southerland and the Major think you’re a convict or runaway. Is that true?’

  ‘What do you think?’ The contours of his jaw hardened.

  ‘I think,’ Kate answered carefully, ‘that it takes a lot for a person to leave civilisation and want to live out here.’ She moistened her lips. ‘What’s your real name?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  It was obvious that he didn’t feel comfortable telling her. More than anything Kate knew what it meant to place one’s faith in someone and have that trust destroyed. ‘You don’t have to tell me, I understand.’

  ‘Adam,’ he finally responded. ‘Now, go and rest, miss. No, keep it,’ he told her when Kate offered the flintlock pistol back. ‘We leave before first light. And take this.’ Reaching into his pocket he retrieved a handful of native seeds. ‘Chew slowly. You’ll be less tired in the morning.’

  ‘I’m s-sorry about your hand.’

  He examined the bite mark. ‘No, you’re not,’ he replied.

  Kate knew he watched her as she returned to the cluster of trees and settled back down in the dirt. The bark was rough against her shoulders but Kate stayed upright, resting the pistol in her lap and cradling the cold metal. The moon glowed brightly, filling the sky. Two small furry animals scampered across the ground as if chasing their moon-shadows and disappeared into a hollow log. Adam had not asked if she knew how to fire the pistol, if she could point and shoot, he’d simply assumed that she could.

  ‘Probably not the time to be wandering about, Kate.’ Mr Southerland stepped out from between the trees.

  She wondered how long the overseer had been standing there. He moved to sit not far away, leaning his musket against a tree.

  ‘I wasn’t wandering.’

  Kate shifted a little closer to the tree, rubbing her arms to entice warmth. The desire to remain awake, to observe the man below who kept guard for all of them, was strong, but Kate knew that tiredness would soon overtake her and sleep was needed if she was going to keep pace with the men in the morning. She ate the offered seeds slowly, quietly, licking her palm until they were gone, grateful for the simple act of sharing and the kindness behind the deed.

  Her thoughts drifted. Above them, high in the branches, some ten feet or more, another watched over them. A native person from this very land but of an unidentified time. In the moonlight the form grew definition. Long and lean, the deceased was laid out along the length of a branch, as if cradled in midair. The tangled foliage dangling down and around rustled in the light breeze, wrapping the body in a delicate shroud as the glow from the moon descended through the highest branches. Arching her neck, Kate stared at the form that hung above her. How could she be unnerved by the presence of this person? Whomever it was who had been laid to rest with the caress of a soft wind and a coverlet of stars had protected them this night.

  Chapter 26

  1838 July – en route to

  the Stewart farm

  Adam and Jardi paused between two trees. A long cobweb strung between branches was broken.

  ‘They are ahead of us,’ Bidjia stated, allowing his palm to hover above the footprints, ‘no more than half a day. The spider has not rebuilt.’

  ‘They know where we’re going,’ Adam decided. The hill that lay before them was steep. It would be hard going for all.

  ‘We should have walked away from this,’ Bidjia told them. ‘No good can come of our being here.’

  Behind them the others followed. The red coat of the officer was obvious in the timber.

  ‘But we’re close, yes?’ Jardi asked.

  ‘Close enough.’ There was the hill to climb and then, they hoped, the valley that led to the Stewart farm would come into view. ‘To leave now would be wrong,’ Adam told them. ‘Mundara would have the advantage. Southerland would put up a fair fight, as would the Major, I’ve no doubt of that, but I can’t walk away.’

  Bidjia muttered something in his native tongue, and then, ‘You have too much white in you, Bronzewing.’

  ‘They would not save us,’ Jardi argued, ‘you know this.’

  ‘But I’m not them and we have given our word to get them safely to the Stewart property,’ Adam countered. The rest of their party drew closer. The group had slowed over the last few hours. ‘They need food and rest before we continue on.’

  Overhead the sun grew warm. ‘Camp here, then,’ Bidjia ordered. Promptly moving a few feet from their path, he sat cross-legged at the base of a tree. ‘The sun-woman nears the midpoint.’

  ‘It is the girl,’ Jardi mocked. ‘If not for her we would be free of this place.’

  Adam didn’t want to venture into a discussion about Kate Carter. He liked her, that much was true, and although he thought of her often, observing her graceful movements, he also chided himself for his stupidity. How could there be a future in such thoughts. When the others arrived he gave orders to rest while he and Jardi gathered food.

  ‘I can help,’ Kate offered, ‘I know some of the native plants.’

  The whites of Jardi’s eyes grew large. Shrugging, he headed slightly downhill.

  ‘You should sit and rest,’ James argued.

  ‘I will be fine. I’m not some helpless female, James.’ Kate followed Adam and Jardi, her shoes slipping on the thick grasses as they made their way to where rich herbage grew. Instantly recognising some of the plants that Sally had taught her about, Kate searched the area until she found a stick. Breaking it off so that it was slightly pointed, she squatted and began to dig.

  ‘Maybe she’s not so bad,’ Jardi conceded, watching as the woman tucked her skirts between her knees and concentrated on the task of digging up food. ‘Maybe she be a good woman for you, Bronzewing.’

  ‘Maybe you should look for food instead of watching her,’ Adam replied.

  Jardi smiled. ‘Maybe I leave so you can talk whitefella things.’

  ‘Maybe that would be a good idea,’ Adam admitted. He grinned in return at the younger man and walked to where Kate was fli
cking up dirt as she dug for the tuberous roots.

  ‘Who taught you this?’

  Kate paused. Sweeping away the earth that had collected on her skirt, she twisted her hair so that it fell over one shoulder. ‘One of the natives at the Hardys’ farm. I would have learnt more if I’d had the time.’

  There was a small pile of plants by her side. Adam poked through the selection. ‘They’re better boiled but we can’t risk a fire so it will have to do.’

  ‘We need more than this.’ There had been little opportunity to speak with Adam over the past day. Kate found herself trying to prolong the conversation. ‘Maybe if we searched over there.’ She pointed to an area some feet away.

  ‘Jardi will find more,’ Adam replied. ‘You go and rest.’ He nodded towards the mount before them. ‘We must climb it this afternoon.’

  ‘Oh.’ The sight of the steep hill and Adam’s disinterest deflated her. Kate got tiredly to her feet.

  Helping to gather the plants she’d collected, Adam accompanied Kate back in the direction of the waiting men. She slipped in the grass as he steered her towards the timber and immediately his arm was about her waist, supporting her until she regained her balance. For a brief moment they stood looking at each other and then Kate busied herself with the plants and continued on alone, confused.

  Chapter 27

  1838 July – the Stewart farm

  The Stewart homestead and outbuildings sat in the middle of the valley. The farm dwellings were mere specks from this distance, but on first sight it was a serene view. Trees appeared to have been cleared in a circle from the site, extending a half-mile to where the natural surrounds, lightly timbered country interspersed with pale green fields, resumed. The landscape was similar to some of the country Kate had journeyed through since leaving Sydney. It was like an English country estate, such as one saw in picture books. She almost expected to see a group of well-dressed men on horseback readying for a hunt.