The Horse Thief (30 page)

‘I don't rightly know. The governor implied he wasn't alone.'

Peggy tut-tutted the tea into a cup; added milk and two large spoonfuls of sugar, then pushed it across to India. ‘Not a nice place. Gaols aren't. My mother came here on one of them convict ships. The stories she used to tell. And the chains. Manacles. They chain them like dogs, you know. Worse than dogs, big steel collars.'

Now for the rest. ‘It was awful. I could hear the women wailing and children crying. The place was like a vision from hell. Something from
Gulliver's Travels
. I thought he was going to keep me there.' She hiccupped back a sob.

‘Drink your tea. It'll make you feel better.'

Sniffing at the steam she flattened her fingers around the cup and sipped the comforting brew. ‘I had to get Cecil to come and rescue me.'

Peggy rocked back and let out a long drawn-out sigh. ‘Oh. And I suppose he did, since you're here and not locked up. I bet that went down like a sack of potatoes.'

‘Actually, he was kindness itself. He took me back to the inn. We all spent the night there. Violet was insufferable, but in the end I managed to talk Cecil into coming back here instead of taking the steamer to Sydney.'

‘Cecil Bryce and Violet are back here? Where are they?'

‘Probably entering the courtyard as we speak. I rode ahead. I wanted to let you know and maybe get to Papa before Cecil had the opportunity. I'd say that's the final death knell to my chances of ever running Helligen.'

‘We'll see, we'll see. Drink up.' Peggy followed her own instructions. ‘And do we know where Cobb is?'

India shrugged her shoulders. ‘No idea. I'd put money on him coming back here. He won't leave Jefferson. It's just a question of how long it takes him. Whether they catch him.' And put him in irons and send him God-only-knows-where to serve out a hefty sentence for escaping. ‘They have gallows in the compound at Maitland Gaol.'

‘Ssh. Now. We'll worry about that later. Right now we've got to decide what to do with that sister of yours and Mr Cecil Bryce. That puts my menu up the spout. Jilly!' Peggy bustled out into the scullery. ‘Go and prepare the guest room for Mr Bryce, right now. I want clean sheets and the place perfect. We don't want to give him any chance to complain.'

Jilly's eyes expanded to the size of saucers and India offered her a watery smile as the girl bobbed a curtsy. Serve her right for eavesdropping. Now her curiosity would be killing her.

‘Off you go, girl. No time to waste.'

‘And you, missy. You get yourself out there. Make sure Violet goes straight to her room and show Mr Bryce to his. Your father's locked in that library of his and that's where we want him to stay. Once you've done that, go and have a word with your mother. She needs to know what's going on.'

‘Mama?' Not Mama. What would she say?
I've come to tell you about my day.
She couldn't. ‘I can't, Peggy.'

‘Yes, you can. And yes, you will. Your mother is in a much better place since that wretched horse came back and we all know she can wrap Mr Kilhampton around her little finger. Go on. Off you go. Soonest said, soonest mended.'

‘Least said, Peggy, least said.'

‘Not in this case, my girl. Off you go and take your medicine.'

India gulped back the rest of her tea. Life without Peggy would be intolerable. She threw her arms around Peggy and dropped a kiss on her soft cheek. ‘Thank you, Peggy. I don't know what I'd do without you.'

‘Humph! Get a move on.' A pleased flush stained Peggy's cheeks making India want to cry. From this moment on she'd remember just how much she owed Peggy. She was her rock. Right from the moment she'd walked up the path from the village and picked up the job after Mama's accident.

As she returned to the courtyard the buggy appeared around the bend. Fred brought it to a halt and Cecil tumbled out and offered Violet his arm; she smiled prettily as he handed her down. Violet was so much more suited to Cecil. She thrived on his attentions whereas they drove her to distraction. He wasn't a terrible man. Just not for her. She didn't want to be mollycoddled like some hothouse orchid; she belonged here, at Helligen, where she was needed.

‘You made good time.' Violet adjusted her hat with one hand and held tightly onto Cecil's arm with the other, almost as though she would never, ever let him escape.

‘I took a shortcut through the paddocks. I've had a word with Peggy. The guest room is being prepared for Cecil. Can you show him up there? Peggy's busy in the kitchen. We've disrupted her menu.'

‘I certainly hope not,' Cecil said. ‘I'm looking forward to a hearty country meal.'

‘I'm sure Peggy will manage. I'm going to go and see Mama, unless you'd like to, Violet?' She couldn't resist the jibe.

‘Oh goodness, I couldn't. Just look at me covered in the dust from the road. I shall see Papa at dinner. Maybe Mama will join us. Can you let them know Cecil is here?'

India curbed a grin. ‘Yes, I can do that. You make sure Cecil is comfortable and I'll see Mama.'

‘It sounds like a perfect solution to me. Come along, Cecil. We'll use the front door. I won't subject you to the back entrance.' Violet's heels click-clacked along the verandah and she disappeared around the corner with Cecil in tow.

‘Fred.'

‘Yes, miss.' Fred had a new tone in his voice. It sounded as though the last few days had made him grow up a bit.

‘I can leave you to sort everything out here, can't I?'

He gave her a curt nod, turned on his heel and then turned back. ‘Miss?'

‘I have to go and speak with my mother,' she said, impatient to be gone. Surely Fred wasn't going to offer her some advice.

‘Mr Jim, miss. He will be all right, won't he? I don't like to think of him chasing across the country with a bunch of ne'er-do-wells. He's not like that. It's not where he belongs. He should be here, on Helligen with Jefferson and Goodfellow.' He scratched his head. ‘He'll come back, won't he? Come back for Jefferson. He'll leave the old boy, but he won't leave Jefferson. He's proud of that horse.'

Well, that made two of them. She wasn't alone in her belief Jim would return. ‘He may well do that, Fred.'

‘And if he does, miss. I won't be telling nobody. 'Specially not Mr Kilhampton. I promise you that.' Fred turned on his heel to walk away then whipped around and glared at her. ‘He shouldn't have called the constables. That was a downright mean trick to pull. Mr Jim didn't steal that horse. His father did. He can't be responsible for what his father did. Half the country would still be in chains if that was the case.'

He had a point there. A very good point. Hundreds of sons and daughters of convicts had made their lives a success, and she'd never heard of any held responsible for their fathers' crimes. ‘If Jim turns up you let me know, Fred. And in the meantime, look after the horses. Jefferson especially.'

‘I'll do that, miss. I'll do that.' He doffed his cap. ‘Can't stand around here gossiping. Man's got his work to do.'

‘Indeed he has, Fred. And thank you.'

She tossed him a smile and left him to his work. He was a good kid. And he was right. Jim couldn't be held responsible for any crime his father had committed. After all, he'd brought the stolen goods back to their rightful owner. It wouldn't stand up in court. Any judge worth his salt would throw it right out. And she had every intention of speaking up, even if it meant incurring Papa's wrath.

She walked under the covered walkway and through the back door to the main house. As always she paused at the bottom of the stairs and ran her hand over the smooth cedar banister, inhaling the lingering scent of beeswax and lavender. After a moment she lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs. For the first time in her life she couldn't wait to see Mama, to admit to her foolishness and share her burden. Peggy said she was ‘in a better place'. What did that mean? Goodfellow's return had made such a difference to Mama's outlook, even Violet thought so. She knocked on the door mouthing the same old refrain. Habit got the better of her as the door opened and Anya's face appeared. ‘I've come to see Mama and tell her of my day. Days, actually, Anya.'

The door swung open. The curtains billowed in the breeze and a patch of sunlight illuminated the jewel-coloured carpet on the floor. The bath chair had gone and the bed was made, pillows plumped and the pristine white coverlet glowing. She spun around. ‘Mama!'

‘India. How lovely. What do you think?' Mama turned from the mirror, her grey-blonde hair catching the light in a series of intricate braids that pulled back from her face and collected in heavy strands at the nape of her neck. She looked so … well, she looked beautiful.

‘I feel quite like a young girl again. Do you remember when I used to braid your hair? You hated it! I used to sit you on the kitchen table and Peggy would bribe you with biscuits to make you stay still. Your hair was always such a tangle. We have thick hair. You've inherited that from me.' She patted the sides of her head and turned this way and that.

‘It looks lovely, Mama.' Their eyes caught in the mirror, grey reflecting grey. She'd never noticed how alike they were.

‘But wait a moment. What are you doing here? I thought you'd gone to Morpeth with Violet to meet Cecil. Anya?'

Anya nodded. ‘Yes, they went to Morpeth.'

‘Then why are you back here so soon? Why aren't you in Sydney?'

‘That's why I came to speak to you.'

‘Oh, and I thought it was to tell me about your day.' Mama's look, reflected in the mirror, showed no sign of confusion. How long had she hidden behind the wall she'd built to save herself from day to day reality?

‘Cecil and Violet are back here as well. I was hoping you would join us for dinner.'

‘I think I've made myself presentable for dinner. What do you think, Anya?'

‘You are always presentable in my eyes.'

‘Enough of this nonsense.' Mama turned to face her. ‘Sit down, there on the bed, and tell me what you're doing back and about Cecil and Violet. I don't want to cause any problems.' Her lips twitched as though she knew every bit how difficult Violet could be.

‘I took matters into my own hands.' It was so important to get this right, so important the story Mama related to Papa didn't inflame the situation. Papa must understand what she had done and why. ‘Papa said he would drop the charges against Jim and I wanted him to know so that he had some hope. I called into Maitland Gaol.'

‘And because you wanted to ensure Jim had survived his ordeal.'

‘Yes.' She inclined her head. She couldn't meet Mama's eyes. Instead of seeing past her they now bored into her very soul, as though her mind was an open book.

‘When I got there, Jim had gone.'

‘Your father's message must have reached the gaol quicker than we expected.'

‘Gone
before
the message reached the gaol. He'd escaped with some other men at first light and they were out hunting them down.' Like dogs on a kangaroo hunt. Running them down. Her stomach churned and she bit down on her lip.

‘I see. And Cecil brought you back here. He ignored your father's wishes and came back here. You must have been very persuasive. I don't expect Violet's happy.'

‘Yes, I was. And no, she isn't.' Surely she could get away with not admitting she'd called upon Cecil to rescue her.

‘And why is it so important that you come back here?'

Her mouth dropped.
Why was it so important?
Jim was being hunted across the country. He still believed a sentence hung over his head. Anything could happen to him and Mama wanted to know why it was important.

‘I need Papa's help, your help. We must find Jim. I know Papa doesn't want him on the property, but we must return Jefferson to him. He brought Goodfellow back. He cannot be held responsible for something his father did. I must know he's safe.'

‘Ah! Now we get to the truth.'

‘It's all the truth. Jim has committed no crime.'

‘You seem to have changed your tune, my darling. Before you left for Sydney you wanted no more to do with the man.'

India reached for her face as the colour flooded her cheeks, making her skin prickle and her collar too tight. Her mother was right. Jim lied. Not Jim. James! He inveigled his way onto the property. Pretended to be someone he was not. Didn't even use his own name. And kissed her, made love to her. Who had done that? Jim Mawgan or James Cobb? How could she care for a man who had used her, lied to her? But she did. ‘I may have been wrong,' she mumbled into her hands.

‘It seems your father and I have a lot to talk about. Go and get changed. I'll find him and we shall all meet in the dining room.'

Thirty

The sky hung dark and heavy and the wind picked up, bringing with it a hint of the wetlands. No better than a wild animal pursuing his quarry, Jim broke into a run. The wide lagoon came into view, flat and dark, reflecting the gathering storm—a far cry from the golden vista that had greeted him on his arrival, an eternity ago.

A pang of disappointment shafted through him. Had he taken the time to think through his foolhardy plan the outcome might have been so different. He wouldn't be sneaking around, a sentence hanging over his head, stealing a horse that was rightfully his, from under the nose of the man who had already accused him of being a horse thief. The irony of the situation didn't escape him. Imprisoned for horse theft and this was the closest he'd come—stealing his own horse.

Arriving on the foreshore of the lagoon he found a sheltered spot amongst the trees and settled down to wait until the sun set and he could make his way to the barn unobserved. At least now he knew what he was up against. The risk he was running. No wonder his father was keen to right past wrongs. Guilt alone must have driven him to his early grave.