Dust on the Horizon (52 page)

“She will always be with us, Father, making us laugh, making us behave and making us brave.”

Thomas reached up a hand and gripped that of his son. He nodded, a quick stiff movement of his head and focused on the wattle. He's a good man our son, dear Lizzie, a good man.

Joseph made his way back down the hill alone. His father said he would be back later. Joseph allowed him his time. He knew how it felt to lose the love of his life. The pain of Clara's loss had faded. He was so lucky to have Millie but he also had the beautiful children Clara had borne. She would always live on in them and the happy memories they'd shared.

William and Timothy were waiting for him when he got back to the house.

Timothy shook his hand. “I'm so sorry for your loss.”

“She was special to all of us.”

Timothy nodded. “That she was.”

They went inside, where Millie had set out fresh mugs of tea. Joseph's eyes widened at the sight of a cake adorning the middle of the table. In spite of the big breakfast he'd not long finished, his mouth watered. He kissed the top of Millie's head and squeezed her hand as she passed him ushering the younger children out. How he longed to be alone with her but there were other priorities that needed his attention.

Joseph sat himself at the table and cut a slice of the cake. The delicious lemon flavour was enough to make him want to shovel the whole piece into his mouth at once but he returned the rest of it to his plate and looked from William to Timothy.

“How are things here?”

“Not good. Binda has less than three hundred sheep in the hills.”

Joseph swallowed his mouthful of cake. “Any of them my breeding stock?”

“A few but it makes no difference now, we've had to let them wander. Jundala and Joe are with Binda and I spend as much time as I can there but it's hard to keep the wild dogs from taking what they will. There's little left for the sheep to eat, they're competing with rabbits now.”

“I should have come back sooner.”

“Only if you had the power to bring rain with you. We've enough bodies to maintain the property. William is a hard worker along with my boy but hard work doesn't change the weather.” Timothy clasped his hands around his mug and looked steadily at Joseph. “I'm sorry to say it when we've had such sadness but I can't see how the last of the stock will survive the summer.”

Joseph sat back in his chair, the cake forgotten. He had hoped things wouldn't be so bad here even though he'd seen for himself the devastation on the plains as he'd returned home.

“We've still got sheep agisted.” William's serious voice cut through his thoughts.

“Yes, of course.” Joseph couldn't believe he'd forgotten them. “We sent a thousand head south before I went to Teetulpa.”

“We've no money to pay for that agistment.” Timothy's expression was grim.

“Yes we do.” Joseph reached into his pocket and showed Timothy his bottle of gold.

Timothy nodded. “If that means money it would be most welcome.”

“When was the last time you were paid?”

“I'm not worried about that. We are surviving here and I'm grateful to have a place to live and something to do.”

Joseph stood and walked to the window. Outside the August sky was clear except for some high wispy cloud. “The rain has to come eventually.”

“Always the optimist, just like your mother.”

They all looked around at the sound of Thomas's voice.

He studied them all a moment then gave a short nod. “All we have to do is hang on.” He came to the table and sat.

William poured another mug of tea and Millie appeared with some damper and cheese.

Joseph felt a lump rise in his throat. He was so grateful to his family for their care of his father. He owed it to them to find more gold and make their life easier while they waited for the rain. He had to go back to Teetulpa.

Forty-four

Jack slammed the door of the hotel hard against the wall. Several pairs of eyes watched him but he had enough drink in him not to care. The devil of a publican had refused him any more drink, said he was upsetting patrons. Curse the man, he'd pay for asking Jack to leave.

Outside the early evening light and the dust that hung in the air gave Hawker an ethereal look. It was late November and the sprinkle of rain they'd had earlier that month had had little effect on the dry conditions.

Jack spat into the dirt and hung onto a verandah post willing his eyes to focus. He'd drunk far more than he'd intended, all because of a whore. The lusty young woman who'd been a willing companion on his visits to town had left. He'd arrived mid-morning ready to spend the day in bed with her. The frustration and disappointment had gone with him to the hotel where he'd found himself a corner and drunk the day away.

He let go of the post and stood on the edge of wooden verandah. He wobbled forward, stepped carefully off into the dirt of the road and turned left. He would have to find himself a place for the night. Several people gave him a wide berth. Jack glared at them. Light shone from a shop window where a group of people were saying goodnight. The next shop was in darkness, a thin young man standing on its verandah looked up and down the street. Jack recognised Henry's assistant and then realised it was Henry's shop he was approaching.

Henry lived a fine life in town while Jack slaved out in the hills. He could find Jack a comfortable bed for the night. Councillor Wiltshire was a man of the town these days, perhaps he even had a woman tucked away who'd be an obliging bed companion.

Jack straightened his jacket, pressed his hat low on his head and approached the assistant who was turning back to the door.

“I've come to see, Mr Wiltshire.”

The young man turned his quick gaze on Jack who planted his feet slightly apart to stop the swaying.

“Did you have an appointment, Mr …?”

“I don't need an appointment to see my … Mr Wiltshire and I are very close.”

“I'm sorry, sir.” The man's look seemed genuinely concerned. “Mr Wiltshire is out of town. We don't expect him back for several days.”

Jack clenched his fingers into his palms. Damn, he was to be thwarted at every turn.

“Perhaps Mrs Wiltshire can help. She's just left for the day but she will be back in the shop tomorrow.”

A vision of Catherine's sweet smile sent the blood pounding through Jack. Henry's wife was a pretty thing with plump breasts. He'd always been able to charm women to do his bidding, maybe with Henry away … He shook his head, a bad move. He reached out for the horse rail as everything spun.

“Are you all right, sir?”

The assistant took a step towards him. Jack pushed out one palm to stop the man.

“I have been unwell. Thank you for your concern. I shall visit Mr Wiltshire when next I am in Hawker.”

Jack turned and walked back past the shop that still had lights on and the sound of someone whistling from within. He kept going until there was a gap between buildings then he turned into it. He paused a moment then followed the alley to the lane at the back of the shops. The early evening light was failing fast and the air behind the shops particularly foul. He strode along the lane, watching where he put his feet, and turned up the road that led to Henry's house. On the corner, hanging over a fence, was the scrawny bough of a young lemon tree. He pulled off a leaf and chewed until the bitter taste filled his mouth then he spat it out.

He hurried on, only slowing when he saw a figure walking ahead of him, a woman. From her outline he guessed it was Catherine and she was carrying what appeared to be a heavy bag. He crossed to the middle of the road and hastened his footsteps to appear as if he had come from another direction.

“Mrs Wiltshire?”

She gasped and almost dropped her bag.

“Please don't be alarmed. It is I, Jack Aldridge.” He reached for the bag. “Let me help you with that.”

“Oh, Mr Aldridge.” There was relief in her voice and she allowed him to take it. “What are you doing here? Don't tell me you've got yourself into trouble with cards again.”

Jack swallowed the words he had been going to say. He was surprised by Catherine's almost cheeky response. He responded with his charming smile. “Ahh Mrs Wiltshire, you know what a fool I was. I have been far more careful since.” He gave her a small bow and pushed open the creaking front gate. “Tonight I was simply taking in some air.”

“Not a good idea tonight.” Catherine gave a small giggle. “Your lungs will be full of dust.”

“The air is particularly thick. Those farmers on the plains must have little dirt left in their paddocks.”

Jack followed Catherine to her front verandah. She wore a soft white shirt that tucked into a navy skirt. The fabric draped and flowed softly around her, a tantalising curtain covering the delights that hid beneath. The house behind her was in darkness. She took out her key and looked back to him. Once more she favoured him with an enchanting smile.

“Thank you, Mr Aldridge. Please leave the potatoes there. I will fetch them in later. My housekeeper must still be away. There was a concert at the school this evening and she was taking the children. I should have gone but I felt rather weary after we closed the shop. It will no doubt go late.”

Jack smiled. Everything was falling into place. All he had to do was get himself inside and he was sure he could charm Catherine into his arms.

“I will wait here until you've lit the lamps. It's not right you should be alone.”

“Oh, kind Mr Aldridge, thank you. I must admit I do not enjoy this big house by myself.”

Jack found it hard to remain still. The woman was practically throwing herself at him. He looked around as she went inside. There were lights glowing at other windows. On this side of the road there was an empty block on one side and a small cottage on the other. No-one stirred in either direction

Once he saw the glow of a lamp at the other end of the long hall he picked up the bag, carried it inside and shut the door firmly behind him. He reached the end of the hall as Catherine came through the door carrying a candle.

“Oh!” Her pretty pink lips made a circle. “You startled me.”

“Where would you like these?” Jack lifted the bag of potatoes.

“Oh,” she said again. Her cheeks glowed in the soft light. “In the kitchen, thank you. I have just added some kindling to the fire.”

She spun on her heel. He followed close behind. She had lit the lamp in here. It was a large room with a solid wooden table at its centre. There was a double fireplace, one side showing the flicker of flames, and a scullery under the side window. Very impressive. His gaze drifted back to Catherine who stood beside the table, the candelabra still clutched in her hand. It was three pronged, full of candles, but she'd only lit one.

Jack put down the bag and stepped closer. “Don't worry about lighting more lamps for me.” Jack bent and gently blew out the candle. His face now level with hers, he took in the tiny freckles on her nose and the dark brown of her eyelashes.

Catherine backed away. “Can I offer you a drink, Mr Aldridge? I am in dire need of a cup of tea myself.” She moved to the fire where the kettle was beginning to steam.

Jack drew in a breath. She was drawing out the game but that would make it all the more tantalising. “Thank you.”

“Please sit down.” Catherine took two cups from the cupboard beside the fire and put tea in the teapot.

Jack drew out a chair, watching her every move before he sat.

“Are you hungry? I have some cold potato pie and some slices of mutton.”

“That would be most kind. I haven't had time to eat today.” Jack thought perhaps food would be a good thing. His head had cleared but his stomach churned with the liquor he'd consumed.

The cup wobbled on the saucer as Catherine placed his tea in front of him. He glanced up but she had already turned away, busy with the food. Jack sat back in his chair. Something had put her on edge. He needed to distract her.

“You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you.” She placed slices of meat on two plates. “It's very large. I am grateful for my housekeeper.” She glanced around. “Mrs Nixon and the children should be home soon.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I thought you said they would be late.”

“One never knows how long these things will take.” She placed a plate of food in front of him. Hers was across the table.

“Shouldn't we eat in the dining room?” Jack felt a sudden flash of annoyance. He was not some servant to be fed in the kitchen. Besides he'd seen their dining room through the window one night and he had a fancy to sit at the grand table.

“If you wish.” She took down a wooden tray from its hook on the wall, placed the plates and utensils on it then added the cups of tea.

Jack picked up the tray. Catherine lit the candles, all three this time, and led the way along the passage to the top room. She crossed the room to light the lamp.

“Don't bother with that.” He set the tray on the highly polished table. “Candlelight will do well enough.”

Catherine came back to the table and set the candelabra close to Jack. He put his plate at the head where he'd seen Henry sit and indicated the chair beside him. She glanced towards the door. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, indecision flickering on her face, then she took her place. Catherine was a desirable woman. Jack wondered how well Henry looked after her. There were things Jack had learned about pleasing women he was sure his straitlaced brother wouldn't know about.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he hardened with desire. If only Henry could see him now. Not only was Jack sitting at his table with his wife but Jack was going to take that same wife to bed, hopefully Henry's bed. Jack was sure it would be big and soft, perfect for what he planned to do with Henry's wife and there was nothing Henry could do about it. He was full of tough talk but Jack was sure one hint of violence would send his brother cowering away.