Heart of the Country (16 page)

“Poor man,” he moaned. “I couldn't save him.”

The doctor tut-tutted. He inspected Septimus for burns, listened to his chest as he breathed in and out and took another look at the bandaged leg.

“You're lucky you weren't lost in the fire as well,” the doctor said. “I should never have left Jones unattended. I didn't realise he was still disoriented.”

He tucked Septimus up on a padded couch. “There will be more questions in the morning but I want you to rest until then,” the doctor said. “You've had enough ordeals for any man in a short time.”

“Who was that man in the hut with me?” Septimus said.

“A farmer from out of the town. He was found passed out near his wagon. I diagnosed some kind of food poisoning. Goodness knows what the fellow had eaten. I put him to bed thinking the worst was over and he'd be too weak to go anywhere for a while.” The doctor looked closely at Septimus. “You have no idea what happened?”

“No. As I've already told you, I awoke to the flames.”

“He must have wandered and knocked the candle.”

“Where is Har– my wife?” Septimus asked, not wanting to be cross-examined by the doctor any further.

“There was nothing she could do for you while I worked on your leg so she said she was going back to pack up your camp. She will return for you in the morning. I told her your leg casing should be strong enough for travel by then. She seemed to think you needed to be back in Adelaide urgently.”

“That's right.”

“Try to rest then,” the doctor said. “Morning will be here soon enough.” He nodded and left.

Septimus smiled. Good on Harriet. She could be of some use to him while his leg was mending. Once she got back they'd be on their way from this place, perhaps never to return, in light of all that had happened. It would be a pity to lose such a lucrative market but there were plenty of other opportunities for a smart salesman like himself. In the current circumstances it appeared he was going to need some help. Having Harriet around for a while would be very beneficial.

Septimus nestled back on the doctor's comfortable couch and allowed himself to relax. His smile turned in to a snigger. Twice he'd tried to get rid of the woman and twice she'd come back. Next time he sent Harriet packing the odds would be on his side.

“You fell on your feet here, Mr Baker.”

Thomas turned to see one of the men slip from the shadows beyond the fire. When everyone else had retired for the night, Thomas couldn't drag himself away. The flames were mesmerising. He knew he would fall asleep in an instant if he went to his bed. The last two weeks had been constant work from sunrise until dusk. The men had built the yards and now they'd started on the shearing shed. He ranged between checking the sheep, marking out plans, finding the right timber and working alongside the builders.

The man, whose name was Gurr, was a nasty-looking character with a scar under one eye and several teeth missing. Short of stature and with a stooped appearance, he always seemed to be looking over his shoulder. He held his hands to the flames. There could be no mistaking the mockery in his tone when he spoke Thomas's name.

Gurr's equally menacing mate, Platts, appeared beside him. “Nice set up,” he murmured.

Thomas ignored both men and threw another large bough on the fire. He did not like or trust either of the men; Platts was as unpleasant as Gurr, if not as brazen. Thomas had noticed their shifty behaviour on the first day but his initial dismay had been put to rest when they kept their heads down and got on with their work. Until now they hadn't spoken to him nor he directly to them but he'd kept his eye on them.

They both sat and Thomas noticed a small flask slip from Platts's hand to Gurr's. They obviously weren't abiding Captain's no-drink rule, though neither did they appear inebriated.

Platts belched. “At least you provide good food here. Better'n the last place. That was terrible tucker, wasn't it Gurr?”

“Bloody kangaroo, the same wherever we go.”

Thomas didn't care what they thought of the food but he'd certainly enjoyed it tonight. They'd eaten kangaroo courtesy of Captain's ability with a firearm. The large, hopping animal had been down by the stream. Thomas had mentioned his difficulties managing the weapon and Captain had given him some lessons. Thomas was confident that, once the builders left, he'd be able to shoot a kangaroo for himself. They were in abundance, along with similar-looking smaller creatures. There was no need for a man to live on mutton alone.

“You got any blacks camped near here?”

Gurr's question surprised Thomas. He flicked a look at the man, who was grinning like an idiot. Gurr spat at the fire then took a swig from the flask.

“No.” He hadn't given a thought to Gulda and Tarka since Captain and his men had arrived, but he wasn't going to share any information with these two.

“You should find out,” Platts said. “Make friends with them.”

“Gets very lonely way out here with no female company,” Gurr said. He winked at Thomas.

“The women are very obliging,” Platts added.

Thomas thought of the three women who had come to pick the red fruit. He felt heat in his cheeks as he recalled their nakedness.

“Nothing like a bit of black –”

“You men get to your beds.” Captain's growl came from the gloom beyond the fire.

Gurr and Platts jumped.

“I've warned you before,” Captain said. “If you so much as look at a woman while you're working for me I'll pack you off back to Adelaide to fend for yourselves. That's your last chance.” His voice was low. There was no doubting the threat.

Gurr and Platts muttered, “Yes, Captain.” They both turned away but not before Thomas had seen the hostile look Gurr shot his way.

“My apologies, Thomas,” Captain said. “Those two have some bad habits which they've promised me they won't nurture if I keep them on. They're good workers so I've been lenient, but I won't abide interference with local women, black or white.”

“Don't worry about it, Captain. I'm sure you've noticed there are no women around here.”

“Perhaps not now but there have been natives camped nearby.”

“I've not seen a camp.”

“I saw their markings on some rocks further up the creek,” Captain said. “There's evidence they lived close by, but you're right, they've gone now.”

That would explain Gulda's easy appearances and disappearances, Thomas thought. “A couple of the men came and helped me cut the first timber for the yards,” he said. “I didn't know where they came from. I've seen no sign of them since you arrived.”

“You've got a lot of sheep to manage out there.” The big man swung his arm in a wide arc. “In my experience it's best to leave the natives alone. Don't encourage them. I've had no trouble by following that principle. They keep out of my way and I keep out of theirs, including my men. Now if you'll excuse me, I must turn in.”

Thomas acknowledged Captain's departure with a nod, then eased himself back down by the fire. There were no clouds in the sky and the night had turned: he was cool in spite of the extra log he'd thrown on. He felt edgy. The thought of Gurr and Platts with native women repelled him. A vision of the three naked women played in his head but always there was Captain's stern face watching him. It made his skin prickle. The man had warned him against working with the natives but Thomas still thought it the sensible thing to do, and he felt guilty he'd not given Gulda and Tarka something in return for their work. Perhaps once the builders left they would come back. One thing was certain, Thomas wouldn't relax now until Gurr and Platts were gone.

The business of building a shearing shed took another week of back-breaking work once the drafting yard was finished but finally it was all done. There had been no more talk from anyone about the natives and their women. Captain had even found time to suggest some additions to Thomas's hut. It now had a verandah across the front and a second room with a fireplace. Thomas would be able to sleep and cook inside during the winter. It was still not a homestead but certainly more useful.

The last night together around the fire was much noisier than usual. Everyone was happy the work had been completed but none more than Thomas, who was now anxious to begin the huge task of drafting the sheep so they could be shorn. The thought of it no longer overwhelmed him. It seemed a lifetime ago rather than a few months since he'd met AJ and taken on the position.

Now that their job was done, Captain supplied some drink for his men. Thomas had taken a sip to be sociable but once again the fiery liquid was not to his taste. He noticed Gurr and Platts drank a big share. Gradually the stories around the fire became bolder and merrier. From time to time he caught Gurr's steely glare but Thomas kept his distance. Platts took no notice, more intent on swallowing as much of the shared grog as he could. Finally he stumbled close to the fire. Captain called it a night at that and urged the men to turn in ready for an early departure. Once again Thomas was the last to leave the warmth of the fire. As he approached his bed a man stepped from the shadows into the faint light of a half moon.

“A word before we leave, Mr Baker.”

Gurr, Thomas could see, was drunk and looking for a fight. Thomas felt his body tingle on full alert.

“Types like you think you are special with your fancy job.”

“What do you mean?”

Thomas might have been bigger than Gurr but the man was used to fighting. He glanced around. There was no sign of Platts, but plenty of shadows to conceal him.

Gurr moved swiftly and grabbed Thomas by the arm. He pushed his face in close and Thomas wrinkled his nose at the boozy breath.

He wrenched his arm free.

Thomas was thankful Gurr couldn't see the heat that throbbed in his cheeks. But he was also sure now that the despicable man was alone. Thomas eased his shoulders back. The odds were more even now, and he did not like bullies.

Gurr gave him a shove. Thomas was ready for it and pretended to wobble backwards, then lurched forward, swinging his clenched fist. He connected firmly with the side of Gurr's face. He felt the jar through his fist. Gurr gasped. Before he could recover, Thomas stepped around him. He slammed his fist under Gurr's chin, sending the man backwards to the ground.

Thomas snatched the firearm from its position in the tree.

Gurr growled. He struggled to his feet but froze when he saw what Thomas was pointing at him.

“I had no quarrel with you or your friend.” Thomas's voice was low and unwavering. “But tomorrow you will leave my land and never come back.”

Gurr spat at his feet. “This isn't your land.”

“No, but I am in charge of it for now.” Thomas gripped the rifle tighter. “Our paths should never cross again, but if they do, you will be the one who is sorry, Gurr.”

Gurr looked from the rifle to Thomas. He put a hand to his face and rubbed it slowly. “We'll see, Baker, we'll see.” He gave Thomas one last withering look then eased backwards and slipped into the shadows.

Thomas remained rigidly holding the firearm. He listened to the soft tread of Gurr's feet until they were lost in the whispers of the trees. He hoped never to be bothered by the odious man again but, just in case, he would keep the firearm close.

Thomas startled awake the next morning at the sound of voices. Captain was barking orders at his men, getting them packed up and ready to move on to the next job.

Before they left, each of the men shook Thomas's hand, except for Gurr, who was busy tying down a wagon cover. He glanced up just as Thomas looked his way. The black eye he sported gave Thomas some small satisfaction. A strong hand gripped his shoulder. He turned to see Captain's rugged face.

“Take care, Thomas,” the other man said, “and I'll be more than happy to work for you in the future. You're a fair and honest man with a good brain. I am sure the day will come when you will be in charge of your own property.”

Thomas couldn't imagine life beyond Penakie, but who knew what the future held? He was happy to wave the team goodbye without the regret that the return to isolation would normally have brought. Apart from getting rid of Gurr and Platts there was work to be done. Thomas had a plan. He took a bag of the dried fruit and mounted Derriere. He had to find his way to the Smiths' homestead. George had offered his sons to help with the drafting and Thomas hoped that would still be possible. Once he set off, he realised seeing the forthright Miss Lizzie again wouldn't be a bad thing either. He urged Derriere into a trot.

Lizzie glanced from the front door of the Smith house back to her father. “No sign of Edmund and Zac.” She lifted the cutlery she held in her hands. “Should I set places for them?”

“I don't know when they'll be back,” George said.

Lizzie's other two brothers, Jacob and Samuel, were seated at the table. They both groaned.

“My stomach thinks my throat has been cut,” Jacob said and clutched his middle.

“No need for that kind of talk, Jacob,” his mother reprimanded. “Lay the table for those of us here, Lizzie. I'll set some food aside for Edmund and Isaac.”

“They were headed west following that dry creek with the big washed rocks. Edmund said he could see tracks.” Jacob blew out a breath. “I don't know how.”

“With any luck, Edmund will catch the thief this time and we'll put an end to it.” Their father sat himself at the head of the table. “I'm fed up with losing sheep to those natives.”

Lizzie paused in front of him. “But how will you put an end to it, Father? Even with five of you, you can't be everywhere at once.”

“They need to be punished.”

“In what way punished?” his wife asked.