Dust on the Horizon (50 page)

“I heard about your fancy dinner celebration.” Jack pulled a sad face. “No invitation for me.”

Jack's grip tightened. Henry put a hand up and pushed against the toffee-coloured face only inches from his.

“Sell off one of your other properties or dismiss one of your employees, whatever it takes.” Jack hissed. “We're in this together for the time being – brother.” Then as quickly as he'd grasped Henry, he let him go.

Henry sagged against the wall sucking in deep breaths of air. He heard Jack walk away, the sound of the kitchen fire opening, the scrape of a plate. Henry put tentative fingers to his neck. No doubt there would be bruises by tomorrow. He heard Jack's boots echo across the wooden floor in the direction of the front room. Henry stuck his head into the kitchen. The room was empty. He retrieved his coat and made for his cart. Physically he wasn't a match for Jack but he now knew what he had to do. He had to find someone who could discreetly rid him of Jack Aldridge – permanently.

Jack watched Henry leave from the front-room window where he sat with his egg-and-bacon pie. He had wanted to laugh in Henry's face, humiliate him like Jack had been humiliated over the years, but he sensed a deep resentment in his brother, one that it was best not to stir too hard for the moment. Jack still relied on Henry for money. He was close to being able to take over Smith's Ridge completely but he would milk every last penny out of Henry first. Once Smith's Ridge was his he didn't care what happened to his brother other than he would experience disgrace, Jack would make sure of that. And Harriet, such an arrogant woman, she'd pay the price for looking down her nose at Jack Aldridge.

He shovelled a large piece of pie into his mouth. It was damn good and reminded him of more pressing issues. He needed a woman, not just to warm his bed but one who could cook and clean. There was a woman in Hawker he visited a few times who'd been happy for a romp but she wasn't a suitable wife.

Of course he had harboured a hope that the delectable Millie might be a dalliance while her husband was away. Wildu Creek was closer than Hawker and there was something about a black woman dressed as a white that excited his senses. He was a man trapped between two worlds. He loved the black skin of his mother's people but wanted the more comfortable life his father's people led. Millie was living that life and he found her enticing. She had always welcomed him with a ready smile and a warm laugh but something had changed this last visit. When he'd found out she was all but alone at Wildu Creek he'd seized the chance. He was so sure she would have come readily into his arms. It was something to do with the boy.

William was a smart-mouthed pup, arrogant like his father. There had been no dingo, Jack was sure of that. William had fired a warning shot, clear and simple. The boy was protecting Millie. It had been laughable. Jack could easily have disarmed him, turned the gun on William, but he knew that would have been the end of his chance with Millie. He had sensed her fear and it had aroused him. He had been so sure he could have charmed her to come to him willingly. While they had been sipping tea he had been working on a way of getting William away so that he could take Millie, make her his, but the rest of the blasted family had turned up.

Jack sat back, his belly full for the first time in several days. It was all very well to have a neighbour who was a useful dalliance but he needed a wife, one with white skin who would bring him respectability. So far he'd found no-one suitable in Hawker. Somehow he'd have to look further afield.

Jack drained his mug and pushed back from the table. He had to pack up some supplies to take to Brand. The man was like a hermit, happily living in his tent in the hills. He had little intelligence but was very good with animals and knew how to take care of the sheep. That was all that mattered to Jack.

Forty-two

Joseph drank in his first view of Wildu Creek. Exhaustion from riding for days, only resting in the darkest hours and swapping between his two horses, was replaced by the brief exhilaration of seeing his home for the first time in eighteen months. The rays of the morning sun were turning the ridges beyond the buildings pink. The huge gums that dotted the creek were alive with the chatter of birds but not a breath of air disturbed their leaves. The houses and sheds were still in shadow but showing signs of life with puffs of smoke emanating from the chimneys.

He shifted his aching bones in the saddle and let the horse take the lead. Both man and horse were happy to be home, but only Joseph carried the lump of regret and worry inside. His mother was gravely ill. He only hoped in the several days since he'd received that telegram that perhaps she'd turned a corner and was on the road to recovery.

Hegarty had come across him slumped over his table with the telegram crumpled in his hand.

“Praying again, mate,” Hegarty had joked but he'd galvanised into action as soon as he realised Joseph's distress. He'd helped Joseph pack his horses, Peterson had prepared food for the journey and they'd both promised to watch his lease.

Now finally, he was here, home. Joseph turned the horse up the slope towards the back of his parents' house, just as a figure reached the gate from the other direction. His heart leapt as she lifted her head and recognition lit up the face of his beloved Millie. He slithered from his horse as she put down the bucket she had been carrying and raced to his arms.

“Joseph.” Her face was pressed to his chest and her arms encircled him. “You're home.”

He pressed his lips to the top of her head and felt dizzy with the sweet smell of her and the soft feel of her body against his.

She lifted her head and he kissed her, softly and then more urgently. How he'd missed her. Finally they pulled apart and he held her at arm's length.

“How's Mother?”

“I'm sorry.” Tears pooled in her big brown eyes.

Joseph shook his head. “She's … she can't …”

“She's gone, Joseph.” Millie reached a hand up and laid it gently on his cheek. “We all did our best to save her. Even Dr Bruehl came from Hawker but there was nothing we could do. He said it was pneumonia.”

“But Mother was so strong.”

“Her chest was weak. She succumbed to coughs easily and this last one was too much for her. She tried so hard to fight it. We sent the telegram to you and Ellen when we realised how sick she was. Ellen made it here before she died but only just. She went quickly in the end.”

Joseph let himself slump against Millie, drawing from her strength. On the long, lonely journey home he hadn't dared think his mother wouldn't be here when he returned but she was gone. The dear woman who had loved him, made him laugh when all seemed dark, cared for his children when Clara died and welcomed his new wife with open arms had left them.

“It's been so warm and we weren't sure when you would return. We couldn't wait for you to hold the funeral.”

Joseph felt Millie's tears through his shirt. He had to be strong for her, for his children, for all of them.

“How is Father?”

“We've hardly seen him since the funeral.” Millie turned to look towards the ridge behind the house. “He spends nearly all day sitting up there by her grave. Sometimes one of us sits with him. Esther's the only one who can get him to come back to the house. I've been trying to coax him to eat but he's hardly had any food since your mother took sick. Ellen was a big help but she went home yesterday.” Millie hugged him again. “I'm so glad you're here, Joseph. You of all people understand his grief the most.”

Joseph swallowed the lump in his throat. His union with Clara had been much shorter than his father and mother's long happy marriage but he knew exactly how his father would be feeling. Joseph had been consumed by the same overwhelming sadness when Clara had died. It had been Thomas who had helped him then, now it was Joseph's turn to offer kindness and strength to a broken heart.

“He'll be up there now. I saw him go past when I was milking the cow.”

Millie looked up at Joseph with such compassion it was nearly his undoing. He pulled her close and took comfort from the hug she gave him in return.

“I should go and see him.”

“Come inside first. Let me make you some food.” Once more she reached a gentle hand to his face and brushed his cheek with her fingers. “You look so tired. Thomas won't be going anywhere and the children need to see you. There're also some decisions to be made about stock. Timothy will appreciate your help. Thomas has no interest now.”

Millie took his hand and walked beside him with the horses following behind.

“I'll see to the horses and come inside.”

“I'll boil some water so you can wash and bring you some fresh clothes.”

Joseph managed a grin. “I guess I don't smell so good.”

“A wash will make you feel and look better.”

Joseph bent and kissed her. “Such a diplomatic answer, my love.”

He was pleased to see her beautiful smile open up her face.

“We don't want to frighten the children.” Millie turned on her heel, picked up the bucket of milk and hurried through the gate.

Joseph found himself grinning. In spite of the sad reason for his return it was good to be home. He took the horses to the yard, removed the saddle and his bags and made sure they had plenty to eat and drink. He slung the bags over his shoulder. One had the little bottle of gold chips he'd been accumulating since Hegarty's arrival. He'd had no chance to exchange the gold for cash, not that he was ready to yet. They had just found a very promising vein of gold running along their adjoining leases. Joseph had to go back before too long. He wouldn't think about it now. Hegarty had told him to take his time and Joseph trusted his friend, as much as you could trust anyone in a goldfield.

His quick gaze across the land behind the house brought him up sharp. The new house that he'd left with little more than a few layers of rock up the walls had grown to take on the shape of a real house. It was grand in stature just like he'd imagined it and was ready to receive windows he hadn't been able to afford. He could see retaining walls against the side of the hill, which had been almost non-existent when he left, and the entrance to the cellar had been dug out.

“I hope you like it, Father.”

Joseph spun to take in his oldest son. He was much taller, more solid and with no trace of his boyish looks. Joseph struggled to remember the date. William would be fourteen now.

Joseph took a couple of steps to his son and wrapped him in his arms. William gave him a faint pat on the back in return. Joseph let him go. He was a young man, no doubt too old for hugs now. He looked back at the growing house.

“It's certainly coming along well. Your doing I suppose?”

Joseph saw the flicker of a smile and the look of pride on William's face as he moved towards the construction.

“I wanted to do something to help.”

Joseph followed his son and gripped his shoulder. “Millie's letters have told me many of the things you've helped with but she didn't mention this.”

“I asked her not to.”

Joseph looked again at the house taking shape in front of him. The gold he was finding would enable them to finish it off and buy more stock if it ever rained. “It's a wonderful surprise.”

“Father.”

Joseph looked down at his son's serious face. Up close he could see dark shadows under the boy's eyes.

“I'm sorry about Grandmother.”

“Me too.” Once more Joseph squeezed William's shoulder, then before the tears could overflow in his own eyes Joseph pulled William into a quick hug. Once more the boy was stiff in his arms. Joseph held him a moment then let him go.

“It's good to see you Father.” William's nose wrinkled. “But you smell rather bad.”

Joseph grinned. “Do I now? I seem to remember a young boy who didn't like washing much at all.”

William stood tall. “We have to share the water for a bath but at least we wash once a week.”

“I think Millie is boiling me some water now.”

They fell into step and walked towards the house.

“Have you seen Grandfather?”

“Not yet.”

“He's probably up the hill by now.”

“Millie said he was.”

“We're all sad, Father, but …” William stopped at the gate. “Well, it's like you were when Mother died but much worse. He doesn't even hear us when we talk to him.”

“Grief can devastate a man, son. We all bear the unbearable in different ways. Grandfather will be all right. He needs time and care.”

There was a cry from behind them. Joseph turned to see his three younger children running towards him from the direction of the hut. Like William they'd grown taller and Robert more nuggety. He was nearly knocked over as they all launched themselves at him. There was babble of voices and hugs and kisses and finally Esther's voice above the rest.

“Phew, Father, you smell.”

Joseph scooped her into his arms and they made a ruckus all the way to the back door where Millie was waiting.

“There's a consensus, my love,” he called above the noise. “I smell.”

William sat at the table at his father's right hand. In Joseph's absence William had taken to sitting at the end of the table opposite his grandfather but this morning Thomas was already up the hill keeping vigil with Grandmother, who would no longer be taking her place at the family table.

William had often wished they'd been able to bring the big table from Smith's Ridge. It was a squeeze to fit them all in around the smaller table at Wildu Creek but with Joseph away and now Grandmother gone and Grandfather hardly eating, there were less of them to fit.

He listened as Esther and Robert plied their father with questions. Like him, Violet didn't say much. She had been very close to her grandmother and had hardly stopped crying for days after her death. Now Violet's face was pale and her eyes red but there were no tears. She'd told William only last night she had none left.