Du Rose Sons

by Bowes, K T

  “Hana, sweetheart, look at me.” The voice was calm and capable and infused her with a sense of hope.

  “Bobby!” she gushed, “He’s going to kill my baby!”

  The blonde drover stood at the bedroom door with a loaded shotgun, aiming with practiced precision at the old man’s body. He moved the barrel’s aim from the man’s chest to his forehead with a tiny, steady upward movement, its dark twin eyes lethal. Jack followed Hana’s gaze and his face clouded with malice. “Hands up!” Flick said clearly, jerking the gun to make his point. His blue eyes blazed with fury and Jack’s jaw ground, his toothless gums meeting and making a dreadful sucking sound. Jack tried to move his hands together to sign something and Flick shouted at him, “Don’t give me an excuse, old man. Hands up!”

  Jack thought better of it and held his hands halfway between his head and his belt, palms outward.

  “Hana, sweetheart, move!” Flick told her and she sobbed and moaned at the same time.

  “I can’t! I...I...oooh!” The contraction punctuated her sentence as the afterbirth threatened and she gripped her baby son tightly as it rocked her body, dragging at her stomach and tugging on her navel from the inside. Hana had forgotten how agonising it would be. “Bobby help me, please?” Hana’s breath hitched in the back of her throat. Flick was conflicted, needing to deal with Jack but desperate to help Hana.

  “Hold on, darlin’,” his voice wavered. “I just need to deal with the old man.” He renewed his efforts with the gun, jerking it towards Jack and Hana’s ensuite. “Is there a window in there?” he asked her huskily and Hana nodded. Flick swore. “It will have to do for now. Get in there!” He jerked the gun towards Jack again and advanced. The old man backed up to the bedpost and remained there, his hands dropping slowly downwards. “No you don’t,” Flick was over to him in a second, spinning him and shoving his face into the post. He lifted the gun barrel and pointed it at the bottom of Jack’s neck, holding it one-handed. He pushed his work boot against Jack’s heel, stopping him from moving backwards. The stockman swiftly disarmed the old man, throwing a dull black pistol onto the floor behind him and kicking it backwards towards the bedroom door. With another groan from Hana, Flick pushed the stable manager towards the ensuite doorway. Jack shuffled in the direction the gun barrel jabbed him, the elderly persona returned. “You’re not foolin’ anyone, you cruel...”

  “Argh!” Hana’s cry made him impatient and he swore at Jack and pushed him headlong into the bathroom.

  The internal doors in the house were on rollers, sliding out from the cavity between the wallboards and Flick was momentarily lost. He realised the futility of his action as the old man turned and smirked at him. Jack could lock himself in but Flick couldn’t keep him there. He slid the door valiantly closed and then cast around him desperately, running his free hand through his hair and swearing to himself. Another groan of agony from Hana made him panic and he moved his gaze rapidly from her to the door and back again, the gun hanging dangerously from his shaking hand. “I dunno what to do!” he howled in frustration, torn.

  Hana’s child stopped feeding and his head lolled on his neck, a dribble of milk rolling back towards his left ear. In extreme pain, Hana laid him gently down on the floor next to her in his woolly shroud and collapsed back onto the wooden floor. She moaned out loud as another contraction wracked her body and the afterbirth began to expel itself.

  Flick busied himself pulling the huge pine wardrobe across the floor, leaving a deep gouge in the pristine wood. It was full and heavy and he grunted and puffed in his ministrations. “I’m coming, sweetheart,” he said to Hana in a break between shoves and a glance in her direction filled him with horror as blood and mess pooled on the ground beneath her. He swore again and put his full weight against the wooden structure. With a clunk it contacted the doorframe, filling its width but not the height of the gap. Flick snatched up Jack’s pistol and put it in his pocket, feeling its weight pulling his jacket to one side. He retrieved the gun and lay it on the bed within easy reach, dropping to his knees next to Hana.

  “It’s gonna be ok, sweetheart, I promise, it’s all gonna be fine.” He cradled Hana’s head in his arms and kissed her sweating, frizzled hair. “I let you down, honey. I’m sorry.”

  “Rad...i...o,” Hana groaned as another contraction bit at her insides.

  “What?” Flick failed to understand. Hana flapped her arm at Jack’s jacket on the floor where he had dropped it. “I don’t get it,” Flick panicked, raising his voice in his alarm. “What do you want?”

  “Radio,” Hana groaned and sank down so that only the back of her head rested against the bed, the rest of her body sprawled inelegantly on the ground. She raised her knees and grunted. “Radio.”

  Sweat poured in rivulets down the side of Hana’s head and dripped onto the stained rug. She groaned loudly and then cried out, calling for Logan as though she wanted to rip his head off. Chastened, Flick snatched the jacket and grappled around in its folds, quickly finding the hard, rectangular body of the walkie-talkie unit. “Sweet!” he squealed in childish glee and lifted the device to his ear. Depressing the call button he heard the beautiful sound of static. “Yesssss!”

  The receptionist was aghast to hear the stockman’s voice and even more confused when he demanded Logan and the cops. And an ambulance. “It’s bad,” his last sentence was accompanied by a gulp of terror as Flick cast a glance at Hana. “I don’t know what to do. Get help. Quick. She’s bleeding and it’s not stopping!”

  “He was going to kill me and the baby,” Hana wailed. “He helped me give birth and then he was going to kill him.” She started to sit up and Flick helped her reluctantly.

  “Stay still, stay where you are,” he insisted and she shook her head.

  “No, it’s done. It’s lessening now. I think it’s all out. I hope it’s all out.” She heaved herself up and let out a gasp of pain as she tried to sit on her bottom. Hana grabbed at Flick’s hand unexpectedly. “The cord, Bobby. He cut the cord, Jack must have a knife!”

  The stockman’s eyes wandered to the wardrobe blocking the bathroom door. It no longer sat squarely but looked twisted in the aperture. “No, no, no!” he yelled. “Oh, crap, no!” Flick stood up and spun a full circle. “Where is he? Geez Hana, he’s gone!” He ran to the empty bathroom and risked poking his head in. “Not good, not good!” he muttered and strutted back over to Hana. “Up! Get up!” he ordered. He gathered the newborn boy roughly into his arms and hauled Hana to her feet. She wobbled unsteadily and leaned heavily on him. “I need to get you in the bathroom and you’ll have to lock yourself in,” he said firmly.

  “No way!” Hana protested. “Wait, wait!” She bent double for a moment, clutching her stomach. Awful stuff leaked down her legs and dripped onto the wooden floor underneath her.

  “Oh, Hana, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” Flick cradled the sleeping boy in one arm and supported Hana with the other. The sleeve of her cardigan dragged on the floor, failing miserably as a baby blanket. Originally cream it was stained beyond recovery. Flick kissed the top of Hana’s head. “I need to get you safe and then grab the shotgun, Hana. He can’t be far and if he gets a weapon, I won’t be able to stop him.”

  “Give me the baby,” Hana insisted, “and you get the gun.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, the man gently handed the infant into Hana’s shaking arms and dived back to the bed for the shotgun. He was back in seconds with it in his arms, the pistol clanking in his pocket against his keys. “Come on, quickly.” Once in the bathroom, Flick shoved the toilet seat down and helped Hana to sit on the lid.

  “Lock the door,” Hana begged. “Please don’t leave me.”

  Reluctantly he shot the catch on the ensuite and went back to Hana. He folded her head into his arms and breathed in her scent. Her breathing sounded rasping and shallow. “He killed Sylvia,” Hana sniffed. “I just don’t understand why he did that. She was leaving.”

  “He couldn’t be sure of that,” Flick wh
ispered. “He just saw that she was hell bent on wrecking things for Logan and he dealt with her.”

  “Why though? What did it have to do with him, Bobby?” Hana pressed her head from his grip and wiped the baby’s mouth with her forefinger. Hana stared up at her rescuer with wide green eyes. Flick squatted down next to her, his blue eyes boring into hers.

  “He’s Logan’s grandfather, sweetheart. He was Reuben Du Rose’s father.”

  Hana shook her head instantly. “No, that’s not right.” Her face dropped its expression of denial as she recalled the strange comment Phoenix Du Rose had made in her diary. She had recounted Reuben arguing with his father, long after Henri Du Rose’s death. “Jack?” she asked. “How do you know?”

  “I took the diaries, love,” Flick said softly. “I broke in and took them. You were real upset about something in them and I thought if I got rid of the damn things, it would make you happy. I came to say goodbye and overheard you and Will talking. I watched you reading them heaps of times and they made you sad.” He bit his lip. “I shouldn’t have read them but I did. Geez Hana. This family’s a mess. Jack was Phoenix Du Rose’s older brother. His full name is Jacob Darcy Du Rose and he was sent to live with the French side of the family as a small boy. An uncle came for him. Nobody ever heard from him again. Then he came back when he was in his early twenties. Phoenix knew who he was but nobody else. He could read and write French and English and learned sign language in France. He had gotten himself a good education and he taught her everything he knew.”

  “I don’t get how Jack was Reuben’s father if he and Phoenix were...brother and sister. You must have read it wrong.”

  “I didn’t, I promise, Hana. I read it over and over again. It only happened the once and they were both devastated.”

  “No, no,” Hana shook her head. “It’s not true.”

  “It is, you’ll see. They didn’t grow up together, they were like two strangers with lots in common. They were gutted, especially when the old lady found she was pregnant with Reuben. Look Hana, I went to Jack’s house. On the walls he’s got photos of him with a baby and a wee boy. Black and white photos...”

  “His grandchildren!” Hana groaned and Flick shook his head decisively.

  “No, Hana. The photos are him and Reuben. He brought Reuben up after Henri Du Rose died and he had a massive influence on Logan. There’s copies of the same photos between the pages of one of the diaries. Phoenix wrote on the back that it was Reuben and JD. Jacob Darcy Du Rose.”

  “But I thought he had a wife and children and...grandchildren,” Hana sobbed, rocking herself back and forwards disturbing the little boy in her arms.

  “He’s got nobody, Hana. He never did have. I promise you, the photos are him and Reuben as a baby and toddler. They obviously didn’t risk it as the kid got older and more recognisable.”

  “What a mess,” Hana groaned. “What a damn big mess. But how come the people of the township didn’t recognise him when he came back? It doesn’t make sense. This town knows everything about everyone. Nobody has ever mentioned him. Someone would have said.”

  “Look, love,” Flick stroked his finger gently across Hana’s cheek, removing a tear streak she hadn’t known was there. “Having a handicapped kid back then wouldn’t have been much fun. It was a harder life, unimaginable. Those kids didn’t stand much chance, they were seen as a burden and you know how Leslie goes mad now whenever she thinks that something’s tapu or cursed.” Hana nodded. “Well, maybe they sent him away for his own good.”

  Hana’s son let out a strangled cry that made both adults jump and she almost dropped him.

  “Hana, I need to go and find Jack,” Flick said softly. “He’s only got to come back here with a decent shotgun and he could blow us all into orbit.”

  “That’s what he wants,” she wailed. “Both of us and this baby dead, would only achieve what he wanted.”

  “Well he’s gonna be disappointed then.” Flick smiled at Hana and she sniffed disgustingly. He laughed softly at her.

  “Do you think he killed the blonde drover who had an affair with Reuben’s wife then? Caroline’s father.”

  Flick nodded his head. “Fairly certain he did. I wonder if he buried him near where they found the woman recently.”

  “Sylvia,” Hana said sadly. “I think so. When the cops showed up, I really thought that was who they’d found, but then it turned out to be her.”

  “He thought we were having an affair. He’s been watching this house at night, trying to catch us out. I’ve been tracking him for the last few weeks.”

  Hana’s eyes were wide and disbelieving. “Did he give you the black eye? I thought it was Logan.”

  “Yeah he crept up on me. For a deaf guy he’s pretty silent. I didn’t know what it was for at first, but after the other guys started calling me ‘the blonde drover’ and I got the diaries, I knew. He would have killed me and dumped my body and just made sure everyone knew I left of my own accord.”

  “How come he still owns part of the property at the bottom of the mountain?” Hana asked and Flick shrugged.

  “That I don’t know, but I figure it should all have been his as the eldest son. Nobody knew he was still alive so the chief named Phoenix. Maybe there was provision in his will for a portion to stay his, or maybe Phoenix gave it to him. We might never know, Hana. But I definitely need to go.”

  “No, please,” Hana panicked as she grappled with the child in the woolly cardigan. She lifted the baby over her shoulder, patting his back gently and he fretted less.

  “Where are Logan’s guns?” Flick checked the pistol quickly and pushed it into his jacket pocket. He spoke as he worked, cracking the shotgun, peering at the cartridges and snapping it closed again.

  “In the gun cupboard in the garage,” Hana sniffed, her voice sounding tiny and insignificant against the clicking of metal. “He keeps the key on him.”

  “Sweetheart, think. Could Jack have the spare?”

  “No, yes, no...I don’t know.” Hana closed her eyes and tipped her head back in desperation. “No. I’m sure no. I had to ask him for it when I wanted to practice. I always dreaded him turning up and telling me that I was doing it wrong.”

  “Hana, I’m gonna sort this and then I need to leave.”

  “Leave? But you’re coming back?”

  “No, sweetheart, I can’t come back.”

  “Why? Why not? I don’t understand!” Her voice rose and the baby’s face puckered again. Flick squatted down next to her and rested his forearms on her thigh.

  “I love you, Hana. I love you like Reuben loved Miriam and like Jack so obviously loved Phoenix. And I can’t spend the rest of my life watching you with your husband and children and knowing that I get to have no part of that. Jack hitting me and then reading those diaries...it’s made me see what I’ve got to look forward to. I don’t want a messed up life where I spend my days wishing I could wake up next to you or engineer ways to see you. When I drove you to the hospital, I imagined what it would be like to be your husband and this wee boy to be mine and I hated Logan for turning up like that. I asked you that night in your kitchen to come with me and I saw it in your face, you don’t feel that way about me.”

  Hana’s face was screwed up in agony and fat tears rolled down her pale skin. Even dark eyed and in distress she was beautiful and Flick ran his thumb down her cheek wistfully. “I’ve watched you for most of the last month, sweetheart. I’ve seen you up late reading and playing with your wee girl. And I’ve seen you with him. You love him and I know that you can’t love that way twice. It’s all or nothing with you and it makes me hurt...in here.” Flick placed an unsteady hand on his chest. “I need to go, Hana. I need to leave before you end up hating me or Logan puts a bullet in my head.”

  “I won’t hate you, Bobby,” Hana sobbed. Flick laughed sadly.

  “I notice you didn’t deny that your husband might shoot me though. And he’d be right. Because if I stay here, darlin’, I will dedicate my life t
o wrecking your marriage until I get what I want, or destroy both of us in the process. And you don’t deserve that.” Flick stood up and looked down on Hana for the last time. “I’m leavin’ you the shotgun. If you hear someone moving that cupboard, put the baby in the bath and cover him with the towels. It’ll stop his ears being damaged, because when this thing goes off, sweetheart, it will deafen both of you. Don’t hesitate, shoot. I know you can.” Flick leaned the gun up against the wall next to Hana. “You’re a pretty crack shot, lady.” His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled fondly at her. “You’ve got heaps better in the last few months. I watched you on and off. It was hard not to walk over and give you pointers, but you’re doin’ just fine.”

  “You’ve been coming up that long?” Hana’s eyes were wide and he nodded.

  “Jack’s been coming up that long, ever since you got back from Europe. So yes. I have.”

  “Did you leave the cigarette ends?” Hana asked him unexpectedly, wiping her nose on her arm. “The cows trampled them but I definitely saw them there.”

  Flick shook his head. “No sweetheart. That was Jack’s secret vice. He grows it at his place. He got Alfred into it. Jack rolled his own and smoked a couple up here each night. He came up on the quad bike and left it on the other side of the paddock down in the bush. I camped not far from here in the dense part about quarter of a kilometre away. I’d get into position earlier than him. You heard him arrive once. I saw you stop and look confused. You heard the bike because the wind was in the wrong direction.”

  “How could an old man just stand there all night?” Hana sighed and Flick shook his head.

  “He’s a maniac, sweetheart. But you’re just trying to delay me. I’d never have let him touch you. I’m going, Hana. Remember what I said, if you hear anyone on the other side of the door, just pull the trigger. But I’ll find him first, so don’t worry.”