Dust on the Horizon (20 page)

“Pa?”

Prosser shook off his son's restraining hand and aimed his firearm at Joseph's feet. Joseph stood his ground. There was nothing else he could do. There was no way he could wrench the weapon from Prosser. The angry man could discharge it before Joseph had left the verandah.

“Pa, what are you doing?” Rufus looked worried.

“He's got your brother's murderer hidden here somewhere.” Prosser swung the firearm wildly. “Bring him out.”

Joseph shook his head slowly, hoping Mary would stay put with Robert. There was no telling what Prosser would do while he was so distraught.

“I am the only one here, Ellis. My friend Binda is out checking sheep but you know he didn't steal your sheep.”

“How do I know? They're all the same, these blacks, and they stick together. He's probably been helping the others and you encourage them by letting them camp near my boundary.”

“The native family have moved on.”

“Where?” Prosser's horse wheeled beneath him and the firearm swayed in his hand. “Come out you black bastards.” His bellow echoed around the house.

“They're not here.” Joseph spoke quietly and prayed Jundala's family were a long way away by now, out of Prosser's reach. He was also thankful that Binda was not here. He was out checking their southern boundary and waterholes and William had gone with him.

“They can't hide forever. The constable will find them. You can't kill a man and get away with it.”

Joseph stared at Prosser over the top of the firearm. Obviously a lot had happened in the last week that he was unaware of and now the law was involved.

“There's a native dead as well. Does the constable know about that?”

Prosser's eyes bulged. “That was an accident and it's not the same as killing my son. He was a man, not some thieving bush animal.”

Joseph felt both angry and sick to his stomach. In Prosser's eyes the natives were less to him than his stock. Joseph despised the man's ignorance. He knew there would be nothing good to come out of this. He worried for Jundala and her family.

“We should go.” Rufus spoke quietly to his father. “We've searched and we can't find them.”

“Smith's Ridge has plenty of hidey-holes.” Prosser glared at Joseph. “I know you've got them hidden somewhere.”

“I can only assure you I haven't.” Joseph moved slowly towards the verandah steps. “I do have work to do.”

The end of Prosser's firearm lowered. “I'll find them one day.” He was no longer shouting but there was menace in his voice. “You can't protect them forever.” He shoved the firearm back in its holder, turned his horse and galloped away. Joseph gave a nod to Swan and Rufus who reciprocated then turned their horses to follow Prosser.

Joseph walked slowly down the steps and around the side of the house in the other direction to that of the retreating riders. Prosser was in such an agitated state, Joseph didn't trust that he wouldn't turn around and come back. The grieving man could be capable of murder and, just as terrifying, Joseph saw his own anger and grief reflected in Prosser's eyes. In his heart he harboured his own ire at Henry Wiltshire and his vile tonic. Joseph blamed it for Clara's death. He had woken from restless sleep on several occasions dreaming he had his hands around Henry's throat.

Joseph walked the length of the outer side of the house and let himself in the gate of the small backyard where they grew their vegetables. He stopped at the back door. Mary must have managed to keep Robert quiet all that time. Who knew what Prosser would have done had he known she was inside with Robert?

He pushed the door open. “Mary?”

There was no reply. He crossed the enclosed verandah and stuck his head in through the kitchen door. “Mary!”

Worried that she might have run off and be caught out in a place Prosser might notice her, Joseph strode into the little bedroom adjoining the kitchen where William and Robert slept. The box bed was empty and William's bedcover was pulled up to the pillow.

“Mary, where are you?”

Fear flowed through him. He was about to look in the other rooms when the quilt that hung to the floor moved. Mary edged out from under it.

“It's all right. They've gone.”

She slid all the way out on her back. Robert was fast asleep lying across her chest.

He lifted the sleeping child and laid him in his bed. Mary clambered to her feet, her eyes still wide with fear.

“You did a good job, Mary, thank you.”

She came to look at the sleeping child. “He's a good boy, little Robbie.” Her voice was a whisper.

“Shall we have our meal now?”

“Yes, Mr Joe.” Mary gave Robbie's fair head a gentle pat then shuffled off to the kitchen.

Joseph gave his son one last look. It made his heart ache afresh to think he'd probably not remember his mother's pretty face, her laugh, her hugs and kisses. Joseph sucked in a breath. Once more he reminded himself he had to keep going.

He passed through the kitchen where Mary was preparing food and cleared a place for himself at the messy dining table. He hoped Jundala would come back soon. It was too much to expect Mary to manage Robert, the cooking and keep the house. Jundala would help but she also liked to work outside and was good with sheep. His friend Binda was lucky to have such a capable wife.

Binda had been a good friend, trying to keep Joseph's mind on work. After Thomas had left with the girls they'd made a plan. Joseph and Binda would do a constant rotation around Smith's Ridge paying special attention along the boundary with Prosser's Run. They worked it out so that each night one of them was back at the homestead. So far Mary was managing with Robert and William usually went with one of the men. That was fine for the moment but he couldn't leave his girls with their grandparents forever.

Joseph ran his fingers through his hair and rested his head in his hands. He stared at the mess in front of him. The table was covered with mugs, plates, spoons, a pot with some withered flowers, a book of children's stories Clara had used to teach the children to read. William must have had it out. Lying beside the book was a bottle. Pain gripped Joseph's chest. It was the empty tonic bottle.

Just when he thought his grief was easing it came back, gnawing at his body, wrapping its tendrils around his thoughts, robbing him of strength. He could understand Prosser's rage. He'd been there himself. There was one more thing he and Prosser had in common: another person had had a hand in the death of someone they loved. Joseph knew the anger Prosser felt for the native who had thrown the spear, it was the same anger he felt for Wiltshire who had supplied him with the evil potion that had weakened Clara when she needed her strength; a drug that had rendered her incapable of bringing her own baby into the world. If only Clara hadn't taken that tonic she and the baby might still be alive.

He picked up the bottle in one hand and thumped the table with the other. The anger still simmered close to the surface no matter how hard he worked or how tired he felt.

“Here, Mr Joe.” Mary put a plate on the table.

He looked down at the cold mutton and pickles. He was no longer hungry. His eyes strayed to the cupboard where he kept the flask of liquor. Mary stood beside him, watching him.

“Thank you Mary.” Joseph glanced up. “Where is yours?”

“I'll eat later, share with Robbie.” She stayed where she was.

“Is there something else?”

“We getting low on flour and sugar supplies, even tea. We went through a lot when Missum …” Mary's voice trailed away and her eyes widened.

Joseph nodded. “It's all right Mary. I will have to make a trip to Hawker soon. Not long now till shearing.”

“Okay Mr Joe.” She nodded and hurried from the room.

The sound of horses brought Joseph quickly to his feet. Then he relaxed as he recognised William's voice. They were back early. Joseph gripped the bottle tighter. That was a good thing. He would go to Hawker today, alone. Binda could stay at Smith's Ridge with the children. There was plenty to be done in the shearing shed to keep them busy while Joseph was gone. He could pick up supplies and finally have it out with Henry Wiltshire. Tell him what his tonic did and stop him giving his evil potion to anyone else.

Joseph strode through the house, purpose giving him strength. Mary had gone ahead of him. She was already outside greeting her father and William was walking the horses towards their yard but there was someone else with Binda. Joseph came to a stop at the gate. A young native woman wearing a white shirt neatly tucked in to her full skirt took her turn to hug Mary.

Binda turned to meet Joseph, a look of uncertainty on his face. “I hope you don't mind. I've brought my sister Millaki to stay for a while. There's been some … trouble.”

Joseph studied the young woman. She gave him a wide smile and looked back at him with sparkling eyes. She wasn't at all shy in his presence like Mary and Jundala.

“You were a toddler the last time I saw you, Millie.”

“Yes, I remember you, Joseph.” Her grin widened. “You could never say my name properly.”

“Mr Joe.” Binda gave his sister a gruff look.

“That's all right, Binda. Mr Joe is for children. I am happy for your sister to call me Joseph. I'm glad you're here. Mary says we're low on supplies and with shearing not far away I am going to make a trip to town.” Joseph jerked his arm in the general direction of Hawker. The movement dislodged the tonic bottle from his jacket pocket and it fell at their feet. Joseph reached for it and shoved it back into his pocket. Binda watched him, a solemn look on his face.

“Perhaps Millie can help Mary look after the boys while I'm gone,” Joseph said.

“I don't need anyone to look after me.” William had arrived back and made to push past his father.

“Steady up, young man.” Joseph put a restraining arm on his shoulder. “I am sure you're grateful for the food Mary prepares for you after a long day at work.”

William scowled at Mary then gave his father a sharp nod.

“Good. I'll be gone a few days so you will continue to do your share.”

“I could come with you.”

“That could be a good idea.” Binda's gaze locked with Joseph's. “You haven't been to town since … for a while. You should have company.”

“No.” Joseph knew the bottle had made Binda suspicious of his sudden trip to Hawker. “I'll be quicker on my own and William will be better use to you here preparing for shearing. As soon as I get back we will need to start bringing in the outer mobs of sheep to the home paddock. I'll go and get the small cart ready. Mary can tell William what supplies we need and he can write them down.”

“I can do it.” Millie gave Mary's shoulders a squeeze and made for the gate. “I can read and write white man's words very well.”

Joseph stepped aside as they passed.

Binda moved closer, his gaze following his sister and his daughter as they went into the house. “That's part of the problem.”

Joseph frowned at his friend.

Binda shook his head. “It can wait until you come home. I will come and help you get ready.”

They set off towards the little shed that housed the horse tack.

“There's something else.” Joseph kept his voice low. William was not far behind them. “Prosser was here. His son has died from the spear.”

Binda paused mid stride. His eyes widened.

“It's all right for now. Although Prosser is irrational with grief.”

Binda locked his gaze on Joseph. For a moment it felt as if his friend could see right into his soul. Joseph turned and kept walking. Binda stayed with him.

“Jundala's family are a long way away now.”

Joseph nodded. “I'm glad. However I am concerned that in Prosser's current state, any person with dark skin could be in danger. Part of the reason I'm going to Hawker is to speak to the constable. I want him to hear our side of what happened.”

“Are you going to tell him it was Muta who threw the spear?”

Joseph paused in front of the shed. “I can only tell him the circumstances and what I saw. Put our side of the story. If it hadn't been for Prosser's rough tactics Muta wouldn't have thrown the spear.”

“If Jundala's cousin hadn't stolen the sheep none of it would have happened.”

“Maybe not, but I think Prosser is the kind of man who would always be looking to shift your people on.” Joseph put a hand on his friend's shoulder. “Stay close to the women while I'm gone.”

Binda gripped Joseph's shoulder in return. “I will.”

Before long Joseph was on the cart, Mary's list of supplies tucked safely in his pocket as he waved his little family farewell. Millie held a fresh-faced Robert, bouncing him on her hip with Mary beside her. Binda and William stood further away, each watching him closely but not saying a word. He raised his arm in a final farewell, relieved he was on his way to confront Henry Wiltshire at last. The back of his neck prickled. He felt as if the eyes of those he'd left behind followed him even though the track soon wound him out of their sight.

Seventeen

The demanding cries of her baby forced Catherine's eyelids open. She sat up from the chaise longue and looked around her. The book she'd started to read slid from her lap to the patterned fabric of the chair. The late October sun was streaming through the tall windows of the morning room. Her mother would not be pleased to see it had reached the intricate pattern of her Persian rug.

Catherine rose and drew the dark velvet curtain enough to protect the rug from the sun but not enough to block the puffs of sea breeze from the open window. She closed her eyes and inhaled the salty air. How she missed living near the sea.

Her father had purchased this land at Glenelg, separated from the beach by sand hills and bush, little more than ten years ago. Catherine had been just thirteen when the family had moved in to the beautiful two-storey home with its arched windows protected by grand verandahs and lacework balconies. Her mother had decorated it with all manner of fine furniture, rugs and artworks. The thing Catherine loved about it most was the five-minute stroll to Mosely Square with its kiosk and the jetty that stretched out into the ocean.