The Good Woman of Renmark

by Darry Fraser

  ‘Same for me,’ Joe said. ‘Will be an early start. Goodnight all.’

  Maggie started. ‘Joe, are we going to be all right?’

  ‘Don’t you worry, miss,’ Joe said. ‘The Sweet Georgie is resting, her engine’s safe.’ He nodded to her, and to Sam.

  ‘I swear to God,’ Maggie said as they left the deck. ‘I don’t ever want to be on another paddle-steamer after this.’

  Sam had also got to his feet. ‘Not long to go now and you won’t have to.’ It was the first direct thing he’d said to her all day. Her heart missed a beat when he turned to go. He stopped. ‘Cap’n Finn was a good man to get you onto land. He must have had a feeling that it wouldn’t be safe.’

  Maggie looked openly at him. His hazel eyes held compassion, concern. That meant there must be just a little hope. She nodded. ‘And Mr Bentley too.’ She shuddered, remembering the sound of that awful blast. ‘And you’re sure there’s nothing wrong with—’

  ‘Not me, but Dane thinks all is fine, and Joe. I trust that.’

  Bucky had begun cleaning up their discarded plates and she bent to take them out of his reach. The sun was down, and the lingering light had set a hazy golden glow along the water. The darkening silhouette of trees on the bank signalled night was coming in fast.

  Hands in his pockets, Sam said, ‘If you’re worried, I could sit for a while.’

  Yes—please do. No. Yes. But it wouldn’t be any good. Not here on the boat, not with Dane and Joe on board.

  ‘No,’ she said finally. ‘Thank you. If no one else is worried, I shouldn’t be.’

  Carrying a stack of plates, she headed for the galley. Bucky followed. As Sam wandered past, she heard him say a quiet, ‘Goodnight’. She knew he had rolled out his swag near where Pie was tied. Bucky would sleep near Sam too.

  Water boiling in the kettle would do for washing up and Maggie made haste to finish the job. Safety next, and she tamped down the fire in the small oven. Checking no food had been left for the canine crew member to snaffle, she took one look around before she put out the candle and headed for her bed.

  All she had to do now was get to her cabin where she would spend another bewildering night.

  Sam patted Pie on the rump, talked to him and hummed a tune. He heard Bucky clump to the deck near where he’d rolled his swag. He talked to the dog as well, low murmurs of nonsense chat, his voice friendly. By the time he’d shucked his boots, Bucky was on his swag, so he shunted him a little to the side and settled down beside him.

  Maggie. Two more days and two more nights and then he’d be able to deliver her to the arms of her family. He’d planned what he’d do, what he’d say. He’d get off the boat at O’Rourke’s, and Mr Strike would steam on to Echuca. Sam would check to see that Ard was fine, that his pa was fine—he hoped he would be—and check the new baby and all. Maybe he’d sleep the night in his half-finished house. Then next morning he’d pack up what little else he had, take Pie and go wait at the landing until Mr Strike returned on his way downriver to Jacaranda.

  Ard would understand. He knew what it felt like to hanker after a woman he couldn’t have. Though Ard eventually did get his Linley. Sam laughed to himself recalling that it was with the help of a cauliflower. But Miss Linley was very different to Miss Maggie.

  Best thing a man could do was to shut his eyes and let sleep come. The tune he’d hummed earlier, about the colour of his true love’s hair, seemed to float in his head as he drifted off. The last thing he remembered was the dog snoring.

  Forty-eight

  Up until now, Maggie had been blissfully unaware of the possible dangers of the trip upriver from Mildura. Only twenty miles or so out of Swan Hill, a good thirty-five hours from Mildura, Maggie was in the wheelhouse when Dane yelled, ‘Next bend, Joe. Bitch and Pups.’ He turned to her. ‘Bit of a tough one, this section, Maggie. Might be wise to get to the deck and hang on.’

  ‘Bitch and Pups, did you say?’

  He nodded. ‘A couple of narrow bends, rocks, snags in low water. Clay islands in the way, one big one and a few little ones.’ He rubbed his face. ‘I think we’ll be fine, but don’t want to sit here on this side waiting for good flows. Nobody downriver mentioned it being bad. We’ve got good water here so far, there might be no trouble. But if there is, could be rocky rapids, and snags everywhere.’

  He leaned out over the deck and called, ‘Joe, I’m slowing her up. Sam, need you on the bow. We’ll hug the Victorian side of the river but look out for rocks, and clay bars.’ He turned back to Maggie. ‘Once the drought worsens, this next bit will be impassable,’ Dane said. Then he sounded as if he was talking more to himself than to her. ‘We might be lucky now, it seems all right.’

  Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the engine slow. ‘What if the boat gets stuck?’

  He glanced at her. ‘Don’t worry. If anything, it’ll be a slow juggle as we ease her over any tight bits. We’re a shallow-draught boat. The Sweet Georgie only needs a couple of feet of water.’

  ‘But if—’

  ‘Maggie.’ He turned and looked at her, locked her gaze. ‘The boat will not blow up. Now, best you get down those steps before we have to do any of the juggling I mentioned.’

  Gripping the side rail, Maggie took the steps to the deck. Sam was already at the bow, holding a straining Bucky by the scruff.

  ‘Let me take Bucky,’ she said and sidled closer, worried that at any time there could be an almighty bump on the riverbed.

  ‘Get his rope. If it gets bad, we’ll have to tie him somewhere.’

  Bad. Maggie’s heart thumped. Casting around, she found the short length of rope they used as a dog lead and handed it to Sam, who fashioned a loop and slid it over the dog’s neck.

  ‘Might be a good time to find somewhere safe for you and the animals.’ Sam handed her the lead, undid Pie’s reins and walked him to the bottom of the wheelhouse, securing him in the walkway underneath. ‘Come in here and stay with Pie.’

  The hairs on Maggie’s arms stood on end. She lagged behind Bucky, who tugged her along following Sam. The water is so calm, how could there be any problem? She looked at the bank and could tell by the erosion that the water level had fallen in the last few yards. She took a glance up at Dane in the wheelhouse, but he too was concentrating. Then she ducked into the walkway with the dog.

  Sam brushed past as he gave her the reins. ‘I have to be lookout for Dane.’ His jaw was set, his frown dark.

  ‘We’ll be all right in here,’ she said, quickly sucking in a breath as his shoulder bumped hers.

  ‘You will,’ he agreed. He tipped his head up to look at the sky, adjusted his hat and strode back to the bow.

  The Sweet Georgie was creeping around the bend. Joe had come up from the engine room and was shading his eyes with a sooty forearm.

  ‘There it is,’ Dane shouted.

  Maggie peered out and wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Bucky lurched on the rope, his eye on Sam.

  Joe called, ‘Looks all right from here closer to the bank. Bloody great snag in the middle, though.’

  ‘I see it,’ Dane called and the boat slowed even more. ‘There’s white water eddies, maybe over the rocks.’

  The Sweet Georgie kept close to the right side of the river, inching along in what looked to Maggie to be deep enough water, but the men could see what she couldn’t. Oh, she loved the river, that was sure, but she wasn’t so sure she loved being on it any longer.

  Sam had leaned well out over the bow. He yelled, ‘Snags on the left side.’

  The boat edged closer to the opposite bank.

  Pie shuffled, whinnied. Bucky jumped on his front paws and barked. Maggie had to hold him back, wincing at the noise in the walkway.

  ‘Boss, careful—we got maybe a hand’s span on her right side,’ Joe shouted. ‘Big old snag.’

  ‘Rocks on the left side,’ Sam bellowed.

  ‘How far under?’

  ‘Maybe just deep enough.’

  The Sweet
Georgie slowed to a chug only, sat on top of the water, only the beat of her heart, the engine, making a ripple on top of the river.

  We won’t be stuck here, will we? Maggie looked at Joe who was waving a hand up high, signalling Dane in the wheelhouse. The boat adjusted nary an inch. Crept forwards an inch. The engine powered down. Joe said something to Sam, then jogged to the back of the boat.

  Next thing, Sam lowered himself over the side. Maggie let go a small cry, and Bucky lurched again, but she held on tight. She could hear more shouts from Joe. It seemed he was in the water, too. The boat moved again, silent on the water. How? More shouts from Joe and the boat stopped.

  Maggie leaned out to check the bow. Sam was still in the water, but there was no sign of him. Oh dear God. Joe shouted again from the back of the boat, but there was no answering shout from Sam. Sam. No movement from the boat. Sam!

  ‘Any rapids, Sam?’ Dane called. ‘Can’t see at this angle.’

  Nothing from Sam. Joe waited a moment, then shouted from the back of the boat for him. Still nothing.

  Maggie stared around her in the walkway. There was a narrow storeroom and the door on it had a sturdy handle. It’d hold Pie’s reins and if the horse didn’t spook, he’d be all right. Even if he did spook, Maggie had no hope of holding him, but to tie him there would be best if she was going to check on Sam. She fumbled Pie’s reins and tied him tight. But the dog was a different story.

  She felt the nose of the boat edge away from where Sam had called out the rocks.

  Dane shouted, ‘Joe, you right?’

  ‘All good here, boss.’

  Maggie stole out of the walkway, the dog tugging her. She growled at him and he slowed down. The boat edged back again.

  Sam burst out of the water, a hand on the deck. Bucky barked in fright and skidded to the edge. Maggie fell to her backside as he dragged closer to the rail at the bow.

  Sam clung to the side. ‘We’re clear of the rocks,’ he called over the top of Bucky who was barking in his face.

  Dane leaned out of the wheelhouse. ‘You got traction, Joe?’

  ‘Some.’ And the boat nudged forwards.

  ‘Anything else, Sam?’ Dane shouted.

  ‘Reckon that’s the worst this side,’ Sam answered. Then eyed Maggie on her knees trying to get up off the deck. ‘’Cept for a woman angling for a swim,’ he said.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she said to him between clenched teeth.

  ‘Sam,’ Dane bellowed out of the wheelhouse. ‘You back on board?’

  The Sweet Georgie slipped forwards. Sam clambered on deck, sodden, stepped over Maggie and headed for the back of the boat. ‘Am now. Goin’ to the other side.’

  Maggie felt Bucky’s rope bite into her hand as the dog hurled himself after Sam. She slipped in the puddles Sam left, fell again, but wasn’t about to let go. The burn of rope seared her palm as she grabbed it with both hands, jagging her flesh. She gave him an almighty tug. ‘Bucky,’ she snapped. The dog stopped dead as Sam disappeared over the side.

  ‘Maggie,’ Dane yelled. ‘Maggie.’

  ‘I’m here,’ she said struggling to stand, the dog’s rope wrapped around one of her wrists.

  ‘Get to the bow. Tell me what you see.’

  She took a last frantic glance at the stern but couldn’t see either Sam or Joe. She dragged Bucky with her. ‘Dammit, dog,’ she cried at him. ‘Come on.’

  She scrambled her way to the bow, dog in tow, and felt the shift in the boat. It seemed to have freed itself. Crawling to the edge, she peered over. ‘There are rocks below, but it looks like some way down. Can you get over a foot or so to the right?’ The Sweet Georgie moved. ‘Good. That’s good,’ she called.

  And then they were moving. Maggie didn’t wait. She crawled as fast as she could, her hand still wrapped in Bucky’s rope, until she could scramble to her feet and get to the back of the boat.

  ‘Sam. Joe,’ she yelled. Bucky barked.

  ‘You see them?’ Dane shouted.

  Maggie couldn’t even speak. She couldn’t see them. Not on the bank, not in the water, not in the gentle wake as the Sweet Georgie broke free of the Bitch and her Pups. Her heart hammered against her ribs and made her cry aloud.

  The dog barked again and dragged her back from the edge. Then she heard the belly laughs and the sputtering echo through the walkway. The two men had clambered aboard and had flopped onto their backs, arms flung wide, dragging in deep breaths. Bucky barked over one then the other.

  Joe laughed. ‘Miss Maggie, we did it. We beat that Bitch.’ His grin was beaming. ‘I don’t reckon I want to see her again for a while.’

  Maggie sank to her knees beside Sam, relief welling in her eyes. He just smiled at her, took her outstretched hand, and closed his eyes.

  ‘And there they are.’ Maggie heard the elation in Dane’s voice when he spotted his young family standing on the Swan Hill landing. The Sweet Georgie glided in.

  He might have recovered from the Bitch and Pups; she wasn’t sure she had, even though it had been a couple of hours or more. She hadn’t even bothered trying to explain to Sam what she’d felt at the time. She’d rather have cracked him on the head. And Joe too if it came down to it. She pressed her hands together, trying to soothe the skin burned from Bucky’s rope. It still stung but at least with some salve and a bandage, it had eased a little.

  On the landing, a dark-haired woman, plump with child, stood trying to calm three children. The boys—clear to see they were the twins—jumped up and down waving and yelling, though Maggie couldn’t hear what, and a little girl was twirling and waving.

  Dane let the whistle blast and the children jumped with glee. The woman waved. She would be Georgina.

  Family. Maggie swallowed unexpected emotion as her throat tightened. Oh, she was so looking forward to seeing her mother and father. She stared at the children. Then stared at his wife and hoped that they would be friends. Swan Hill was not that far from Echuca; Georgina didn’t look to be much older than Maggie—and they would have something in common if they did become friends. By all accounts, according to Dane, his wife was something of a suffragist.

  Maggie frowned. So, how can Georgina be a wife and a mother and still work towards a voice for women in a world governed by men? Why did she choose to do both? Could anyone do both?

  Dane was out of the wheelhouse as soon as the engine slowed. The boat idled. He leapt down the stairs to the deck and landed as Joe whirled the mooring rope over his head. It sailing over a post and as he pulled it in, the boat sidled to the landing. Dane flew past him and, in two bounds it seemed, had gathered up his wife and lifted her off the ground, whirled her around, his delighted shout reaching Maggie’s ears. He stopped, carefully put Georgina back on her feet and then kissed her hard. Her hands came up to hold his face, and at that tenderness, that happiness to see her man home, Maggie thought she’d burst into tears.

  The children danced around them. Dane scooped up the dark-haired twin boys and squeezed them in a fierce hug, spinning with them. When he put them back on the ground, he went down on one knee in front of the little girl and spread his arms wide. She threw herself into him, her chubby little arms wrapping around his neck.

  Maggie did burst into tears.

  Joe had dropped the gangway and approached them, his hat off, a big grin on his face. Georgina put a hand on his arm and he clapped his own over it before the young boys ploughed into him. He ruffled their heads as they gripped his legs. He reached over and tapped the little girl’s nose as she hung over her father’s shoulder.

  The lump in Maggie’s throat had only grown bigger and she was gulping in air between sobs. No. No. No. She mopped her eyes with the edge of her pinny. She knew that her nose would be red and huge, and there would be no hiding it. Well, that didn’t matter. This was family.

  With tears dried and her nose wiped, she knew that it was time she went down to meet the rest of her cousins, and slowly made her way to the deck.

  There, staring at the
family on the landing, Sam had Bucky by the lead in one hand and Pie’s reins in the other. Bucky strained to go, but Sam was not distracted by him. He was looking past the scene on the deck. ‘There’s his horse,’ he said.

  Maggie followed his gaze. Alongside a patient horse harnessed to a cart, tied to the branch of a tree, stood a beautiful black and glossy stallion, tossing his head and stamping his feet, garnering attention. It was Joe who loped up and rubbed his muzzle.

  ‘That is MacNamara,’ Sam breathed. ‘I’d forgotten how magnificent he is.’ Pie had nickered after spying the other horses, and danced a little on the deck. ‘I’ll go say hello to Mrs MacHenry and then take Pie for a run. Mr Strike’s due in soon, I’m told. I’ll be back directly.’ He handed her Bucky’s rope and led Pie over the gangway.

  Bucky forgot the rope and shot to his feet, dragging Maggie off the boat and onto the landing after Sam. She groaned as her hands protested. Sam spoke to Georgina, hat in hand, then swooped on the young lads, war-whooping as he chased them around the landing. Pie stood waiting, stoic as usual. Amid the excited yells, Sam managed to step into the stirrup and mount. He waved and took off. ‘I won’t be long,’ he shouted.

  Maggie stared at her cousins, and her breath caught as she witnessed an unguarded intimate moment. With his young daughter still draped over his shoulder, Dane had taken up his wife’s left hand and had pressed a kiss over her wedding rings, his dark gaze on her. When he released her, Maggie saw a plain band of gold gleam. The other ring was set with an exquisite large yellow stone and it twinkled on her finger. Georgina touched his face for a lingering moment, and smiled, a sigh escaping.

  Maggie’s heart hammered. Yes, yes, I know, she answered it. This is what I want to feel in my life.

  They turned to her and Dane said, ‘Georgina, this is my cousin, Mairead O’Rourke. Maggie, this is my wife, Georgina MacHenry.’ He took Bucky’s rope.

  ‘I am so happy to meet you, Maggie.’ Georgina embraced her as closely as she could, then laughed at herself and gave her rounded belly a gentle tap. Maggie felt her face bloom and tears threaten again, but they held off. It startled Georgina. ‘Oh, have you been through an awful time?’ she asked Maggie, then looked at her bandaged hands. ‘You have.’