A HAZARD OF HEARTS (8 page)

Paul Gascoigne dropped his mug. He bent to
recover it, saying in an even tone, ‘I find it almost incredible. To do that to
a woman.’

‘To anyone.’ Elly had turned fierce. ‘The one
thing about this harsh country is the way it breeds bonds between folk for
protection. We must stand back to back and face its hardships together. The
people of The Settlement broke that bond.’

Paul’s head came up. ‘Well said. It’s imperative
that we support one another if we are to survive and turn this land into a
thriving, self-determining community. The inhabitants of your Settlement sound
to me like the worst kind of low-minded idiots.’

Elly said more happily, ‘Thank you.’

‘Did they do that to your hair?’

Flushing, Elly raised her hands to her spiky
head, then let them drop. ‘Yes.’

‘An unnecessary refinement of cruelty. I shall
not bother to visit The Settlement. It’s crossed off my list.’

 He got up and ladled porridge into a bowl,
adding brown sugar, and handed it with a spoon to Elly. His own share went into
his empty mug.

 Seeking a change of subject, Elly asked, ‘What
list is that? Do you travel to all the settlements north of Sydney Town?’

‘As many as I can reach in a given time.’ He
concentrated on his porridge, seemingly at the end of his explanation.

But Elly was intrigued. ‘I should like to hear
more about your travels, if you please. Do you ride out for pleasure? What do
you hope to achieve?’

Evidently willing enough to oblige, he began to
outline his purpose. It seemed he was politically ambitious, hopeful of
eventually gaining a seat on the colony’s Legislative Council, despite the firm
hold of the wealthy property owners. But to do this he needed the support of the
less important members of society, to push for their right to a vote and to
representation by men who had their interests at heart.

‘Our time will come,’ Paul promised. ‘The small
people are gaining strength and they want a voice in their governance. We’ll
not end up with a class-ridden society like the one back home. Here we all
start equal. Self-government will bring with it the chance for men of intelligence
and integrity who have the good of this young country at heart.’ He stopped
abruptly. ‘You must pardon me for haranguing you like this, Miss Ballard. I’ll
descend from my podium immediately.’

‘No, no. Go on. I need to talk, to listen to new
ideas. It’s been so long... And I like to hear someone express commitment. My
father believed this colony would one day head a nation of strong, fearless men
and women. He wanted to live to see that day.’ She faltered.

‘You’re grieving for him, still. I’m sorry for
your loss, amongst all your other tribulations.’ Paul got up to fetch a meaty
bone for Pepper.

The little brown dog gazed up at him with adoration
and fell to his breakfast. Paul pulled the floppy brown ears gently, spoke a
few words in an under-voice, then returned to his place, saying briskly to
Elly, ‘Speaking of tribulations, what is your attitude towards the people who abused
you and drove you out to die?’

She gave him a scornful look. ‘My attitude is,
as you would expect, one of anger and great disappointment. One likes to be
appreciated, not execrated. However, thoughts of revenge are childish and
benefit no-one. I have to make a new life in a new place and put The Settlement
behind me.’

‘I agree.’ He leaned back against a handy
sapling, crossing his long legs in comfort, relaxing as fully as a man at home
in his own favourite chair.

The niceties of social behaviour had little
place in the bush, reflected Elly, settling herself on the bed-roll. She
wriggled her bare toes and grinned privately. Time enough to resume boots and
propriety when she arrived back in civilization. She looked up to meet Paul’s
speculative gaze.

‘Miss Ballard, circumstances have caused me to
limit my circuit of the townships on this trip. May I offer you my escort to
Sydney Town?’

Elly flushed. ‘Has my plight influenced your decision,
Mr Gascoigne? I shouldn’t like to think you had abandoned your journey for such
a reason. I could quite easily find employment in the next settlement you
visit.’

‘No doubt your skills would be welcome there. Yet,
would you not prefer to begin a new life in completely different surroundings,
away from unhappy memories? I assure you, I had already turned back towards
town.’ His half-smile said far more than words, telling her that he understood
her dilemma, knew how relief warred with chagrin at her position, underlined by
her anxiety not to burden a stranger.

He understood entirely too much, thought Elly. It
irked her to be so beholden, but what choice was there? She’d best be gracious
and find some way to even the balance later.

‘I accept your offer with gratitude. However,
you must let me earn my way. Show me how you break camp.’ She reached for her
boots.

~*~

They made an early start before the heat
struck and, despite her sore arm, Elly worked diligently, approving Paul’s
careful loading of the pack-horse, his checks to see that nothing galled the
animal. Finally he mounted Elly behind him on a saddle blanket and led the
pack-horse jingling in the rear. Pepper ran ahead like a forest scout, his questing
nose flushing up birds and lizards and, once, a giant goanna which sent him
into prudent retreat. The great striped lizard eyed him, tongue darting
furiously, then sped up a tall tree, its claws gouging the trunk as easily as knife
blades.

At Paul’s insistence, Elly wore his hat while he
tied a handkerchief about his head over a bunch of damp leaves, and his absurd
appearance helped her to put aside her shyness at his proximity. She’d never
before sat pressed against a strange man’s back and buttocks. The sensation
caused her decidedly mixed reactions. A ladylike withdrawal was hardly
possible, nor even appropriate. Despite her efforts to tidy herself, she felt
that nothing could turn her from a shabby vagabond into the gentlewoman she’d
once been.

Strangely, the idea didn’t bother her. She knew
she’d changed in other ways, was tougher. People would never again have the
chance to ride rough-shod over her. And whatever the future held, it could be
dealt with. How much she would like to show the world what a woman could do in the
field of medicine. She wanted to see women trained to nurse professionally,
competently and with the informed compassion so often lacking in the care of
the sick. She could do it. She knew she could.

~*~

Trotting along in the cool early morning,
with a breeze whispering through the leaves overhead, the horse’s gait smooth
beneath her, Elly had an urge to talk. She missed her conversations with her
erudite father, and she was naturally curious about people. She also found Paul
Gascoigne to be a challenge, polite but irritatingly silent and self-contained.

However, he proved quite adroit at avoiding her
gambits so she found herself doing the talking, describing her years at The
Settlement, her father’s work and the disasters that had struck them all
recently, decimating the township and draining the humanity from its remaining
citizens.

When she finally stopped, her feelings and her
story spent, Paul said over his shoulder, ‘You’ll feel better for having
relived it all. Emotions put into words have a way of shrivelling.’ He added in
an under voice, ‘Would that I could follow my own advice.’

But Elly thought she must have misheard him, as
he then went on to describe some of the sights of Sydney and its lovely harbour
setting. However, their conversation became desultory as the temperature rose,
and soon after midday they stopped to eat and rest the horses. Elly drifted off
to sleep in the shade of a banksia tree, waking surprised to find the shadows
long, with the sun a melting bubble on the western horizon.

‘Do you want to go on for another hour or so?’
Paul asked. ‘We can camp here for the night. There’s no urgency to reach the
river.’ He had made a brush from twigs to curry the horses’ manes, which were
badly tangled with dust and burrs. Elly watched the long brown hands stroking smoothly
and wondered why she shivered in the warm air. She tried to read his expression
but it was neutral. Obviously he believed that as a frail woman she needed to
pace the journey.

She said, abruptly, ‘Let’s go on.’

‘As you wish. I’ll saddle up.’

Elly rushed to help clear the camp.

The track had changed to an intricate web of
light and shadow through which the horses’ hooves pranced, kicking up puffs of
dust. The daytime bush sounds had ceased, while a breeze now carried the shrill
calls of birds disputing their chosen branches for the night. In places the
track sloped quite severely, and sometimes hooves slipped, the horses held up
by the rider’s firm hands. Despite her resolution Elly was tiring, so, to
distract herself she began questioning Paul.

‘Why do you travel so much? You said you
preached manhood suffrage and self-government to people. Do they listen? Are
they genuinely interested?’

He said over his shoulder, ‘Indeed they are,
from the squatter hoarding his acres of pastureland and greedy to add to them,
to the man who grows vegetables in his home garden. Land is the wealth here,
and I believe it should be equitably divided, not kept in the hands of the few,
as it is at present. We need true representation of all the people. That’s why
I’m interested in politics, spending my life talking to any who will listen. Other,
more influential men think the same way, so we work together to bring about
change.’

‘You say “people” when you mean men. What about
the contribution of women? They work as hard, they have intelligence. Why not
harness their power to your political wagon?’ She felt him stiffen. He half
turned to look at her.

‘Women are not interested in politics. Their
expertise lies in other fields.’

‘Only because they’ve never been tried in that particular
area. Or are you one of those men who see a woman as an adjunct, a background
figure against which a man struts and orders the lives of others?’ Elly’s tone
was too tart, she knew, but she truly believed that her sex was underrated. She
also admitted privately that something in her needed to prick this man’s
self-assurance.

Paul spurred the horse into a fast trot. ‘I don’t
agree that is the common view of women. They have a necessary part to play in
family life, wielding power in the home, which is their natural place. But
women in public life would be a scandal and a mockery to their femininity.’

Bumping uncomfortably now on her steed’s rump,
Elly spoke jerkily, in short phrases. ‘Aha. So you are one... of them. Afraid
of challenge. Afraid to think... of women as intellectual equals.’

‘Not at all. I prefer to think of them as nature’s
counterpart to men, a restraining influence, more resilient, less driven by the
need to achieve, to conquer. Female softness is a necessary balance, to be
preserved and protected at all times.’

 Elly snorted, seeing that further argument
would not only be futile but could lead to an uncomfortable clash with her
rescuer. ‘Very well, Mr Chauvinist Gascoigne, we shall talk of other matters.’

Paul slowed as they reached the top of a steep
incline and retorted, ‘We’d best not talk at all, while on this slope. I think
we should find a reasonably level place to camp. The sun’s almost gone, but the
river is still a mile on, if my reckoning is correct.’

Elly subsided but continued to silently plan a
few future agreeable sorties against the bastions of Mr Gascoigne’s prejudice. Was
this the reason for his solitary nature, or did something else lie behind his
wariness with others of his kind? Animals drifted to him, and Pepper, running
ahead as usual, was his slave; but for all her efforts, Elly herself could come
no closer to understanding him.

Once at the river they progressed more easily,
spending the night on a grassy bank with the sluggish murmur of the water in
their ears. They broke camp early, a few hours’ ride along the watercourse
bringing them to a large lagoon known as The Broadwater. There on its shores
they found a mill where they bargained for passage on a log raft being drifted
across to the next section of river. This shallow stream, unnavigable by
anything but a flat-bottomed barge, passed through thick rainforest and
followed the coastline down to Port Stephens.

Sore from the unaccustomed exercise on horseback,
and disgruntled with her silent companion, Elly appreciated the change. The
animals rested, also, and she even began to believe they enjoyed the different
scenery. This had altered drastically to swamp forest and sand flats dotted with
tea-tree and cabbage palm. At times the gums and banksia closed in then gave
way to open heath following the gentle slopes of old dunes where wallabies and
dingoes came down to the river to drink. At night, when they pulled in to the bank,
above the hum of mosquitoes Elly could hear the sea.

Ten miles from the Broadwater the river debouched
into Port Stephens where they bought passage on a paddle-wheeler carrying
milled timber down the coast to Sydney.

By this time Elly and Paul had taken up
diametrically opposed positions on just about all subjects. Forced into each
other’s unrelieved company day and night, they seemed to disagree every time
they spoke, finding their only refuge in silence. When they finally boarded the
coaster she welcomed the chance to escape his company. Conscious once more of
her appearance in society, she sacrificed a petticoat to fashion a scarf,
hiding her maltreated hair, and carrying off her odd appearance with a
composure worthy of Paul Gascoigne’s own.