by Meg Buchanan
Chapter 2
THE NEXT MORNING, he woke in his own bed. The house was quieter than usual. Lately, with three women, three little girls and a baby, the house was never quiet. His mother and sisters must have gone to church.
He got up, made himself a cup of tea and stood on the back porch and watched his sister Alice coming through the gate. She was home from university for the summer break.
She bounced up the steps, all honey-coloured hair and blue eyes. “You’re awake, big brother.”
“Just. How was church?”
“Interminable.” She removed her hat pin and took off her hat. “I’m sure on a beautiful day like this God would want us outside, not stuck in a church listening to an old man ramble on.”
“You could always just not go. Try it. See what happens.” He watched the horses grazing happily in the paddock beyond the end of the yard. If he had the energy, he’d get a shovel and start digging over the garden like his father would have by now.
Alice glanced at him. “I know what happens. I’ve tried it. I get a lecture. How was Auckland?”
“Very pleasant.” The ribbons trailed from Alice’s hat and caressed the roses. “Put your hat back on, you’ll get freckles.”
“It doesn’t worry you.”
Courtney looked at back of his hands, a maze, like his face. “It’s different for me.”
Alice turned, leaned back against the railing and crossed her boots, shiny toes peeked out from under her skirt. “Everything is different for you, Courtney.”
Courtney nodded. Alice still always wanted to push the boundaries. She idolised Mrs Shepherd and had helped collect signatures for the petition the women’s suffrage movement had presented to parliament earlier in the year. The bill giving women the right to vote had almost been voted in but, much to Alice’s disgust was defeated at the very last hurdle. “Where are Mother and Eliza?”
“Eliza and the children have gone home. Mother is still at the church, she wanted to talk to the minister. Hopefully to tell him to keep the sermons shorter. She is organising the nativity play for the Christmas service. Then she had to see about the creche, someone stole baby Jesus. They need a replacement doll, I told her they could just have one of mine. She should be home soon.”
He put his empty cup on the chair by the door and stretched. “I thought Eliza was staying for Christmas day.”
“She and Mother had a disagreement. Mother said Declan should get someone to help her with the children. Eliza said Declan couldn’t afford to pay someone to help her look after her own children. So now they are spending Christmas at the farm.” Alice changed the subject. “How was Mr Jones?”
“Eugene was fine.”
“I wish I could have come to the club with you.”
“Sisters aren’t welcome. Besides you wouldn’t have enjoyed it, it was a business meeting.”
“Pffft,” said Alice in an unladylike way. “An excuse. Will you stay and have lunch with us?”
He saw his mother’s trap coming down the road. “Yes, then I have to go and see William.”
“Pffft,” she said again. “You’ll see him tomorrow, you work with him, why would you visit him on a Sunday?”
“Important business.” Courtney stretched again. “I bought you a present when I was in Auckland.”
“A Christmas present?”
“No, just a present. I saw a book of Mr Wordsworth’s poetry in the bookshop and thought you’d like it.”
“I’d love it.”
“I’ll get it if you go and open the gate.”
After they’d eaten lunch, he rode out of town, forded the river at the Criterion Hotel, and went along Rotokohu Road. The mountain towered in front of him.
He turned into the driveway of William’s farm and saw Mere, William’s wife, beautiful, tall and slim, with coal-black hair worn loose and down to her waist. She was outside by the stables with William and their two boys.
William saw Courtney and grinned with the easy confidence being born to money gave a man. He was holding the reins of a horse he hadn’t seen before.
“Over here, Courts,” called William. He used to be slender, but over the years they’d worked together, he’d put on weight. Now in his mid-thirties, he was a bear of a man, hair still brown, eyes still dark, still handsome. “What do you think of James’ Christmas present?”
“I thought he was still riding the pony.” He remembered William buying a pony, white with brown splodges and a brown mane and tail to match for his older son Edward a few years ago. James must have out-grown it too.
“Tell a gelding, ask a stallion, discuss with mare,” said William as he handed the reins to James. “And pray if it’s a pony. Especially if the boy riding it wants to do more than the pony does.”
Seven-year-old James held the halter and started to lead the horse around the yard with his brother Edward walking with him. When he got to the mounting block, Edward held the horse so James could get on and then he walked the horse sedately around the yard again with Edward walking with them again.
William wandered back to where Courtney was standing with Mere. “James is going to be a good rider.”
Courtney nodded, though it would be very unlikely that either of William’s boys would be allowed to be anything but good riders.
The two boys took another lap while the adults watched. After a while, Edward let go and allowed his little brother to walk the horse by himself. James guided it back to the adults.
“Can I take him into the house paddock?” His eyes pleaded, the same grey eyes as his mother had.
William nodded. “Yes, but no galloping yet. You have to get to know him first.”
“Be careful,” warned Mere. Grey eyes were unusual eyes for someone part Maori. He met Mere years ago when she came home from school with Eliza. Even then Mere was beautiful beyond belief, and those eyes fascinated him.
“Yes, Mama.” James walked the horse through the gate and followed the fence line. Edward still followed his brother on foot but stayed back a little.
William watched their progress then asked Courtney. “Did you sign the contract?”
He nodded. “Yes. They want us to prepare a proposal for each council outlining the scope of work. I’ll go to Waihi tomorrow and discuss what they want, then talk to the Paeroa and Thames councils during the week. We should be ready to start in the new year. That will give us time to do McKenzie’s work this week.”
William nodded. “We’ll get on to it tomorrow. I thought you’d still be in Auckland. I wasn’t expecting you back until the steamer got in at the wharf at Puketeawairahi tomorrow morning. I was going to pick you up.”
“I came back early and met Eugene at the club. Guess who’s the new owner?”
“I heard. Charlotte Pryor.”
Mere glanced at her husband. “That woman,” she said.
William grinned at her. “It was all a long time ago, forgive and forget.”
“She tried to have you killed,” said Mere.
William shrugged. Courtney pushed his hands into his pockets and watched James kick the horse to a trot. “It might be a bit hard to forget just yet. Eugene wondered if you were looking at selling the claims.”
“To him?”
“No, to McKenzie. He’s mentioned he wants them.” The horse picked up speed, and James bounced around on his back.
“Pull him up,” his father called out. He looked back at Courtney. “We’ve been considering selling, but there’s a problem.”
“Six bodies hidden under a pile of rock?”
“Exactly. Grip with your knees,” William called to his son. “James isn’t ready for stirrups yet,” he said just as the boy slid off the saddle and hit the ground. Both parents waited for him to stand. He seemed all right, just winded. He brushed the dust off his trousers and led the horse back to the adults.
William ruffled his hair. “You did well, son.” He looked back at Courtney. “After we’ve got this animal away, let’s go inside and talk a
bout it.”
A bit later, Courtney sat with William at the dining table. Edward and James were playing with toy animals and blocks in the dining room.
“How was Charlotte?” asked William when Mere was in the kitchen. Courtney could understand why William waited until his wife wasn’t near before he asked that question.
“Very hospitable.”
“She always was,” said William.
“Only with you.”
William grinned, and for a moment Courtney saw the young William he met on the Remittance, slender, handsome and totally reckless. “She was one of the few things that made that voyage bearable, plus you and your crate of brandy,” said William.
Courtney laughed. “I’d forgotten about that. Three months on a ship, and you, John Willis and I, spend most of it drinking.”
“That, and Charlotte’s cabin was the best way to pass the time.”
Mere came through the door carrying a tray with teapot and cups. “What was the best way to pass the time?” she asked.
“Drinking brandy,” said William.
Mere put the tray on the table. “That tends to be your answer to everything.”
William picked up the teapot. “Cup of tea, Courts?” Courtney nodded, and William poured him a cup.
Mere sat down opposite her husband. “We considered just selling the claims and denying any knowledge of the bodies.”
William nodded. “We didn’t own the mine when we buried them there, we thought that might work.”
Courtney played with his cup. “But you’d been working that claim at the time, even though you didn’t own it.”
“Yes, that’s the other problem.”
“Why are you interested in selling?”
“If we sell, I can afford to give up surveying and just concentrate on farming.”
“You’re thinking of leaving the business? When were you planning on telling me?”
“Once we’d solved the problems. Anderson never struck gold when he had the mine, but it’s obviously been worked extensively. We don’t want anyone asking any questions about that either.”
“Six bodies and a mine that doesn’t tell the story everyone remembers…” Courtney trailed off.
Mere stood up and refreshed the teapot from the kettle on the stove. “And there’s another problem too. Do you remember when we carried the bodies to the mine?”
Courtney nodded. “I remember.” There had been something obscene about the dead men lying uncovered in the sacking. The staring eyes, the open mouths, the gaping wounds, the lolling heads. Dead men don’t always look that horrific. When his father died, he’d looked peaceful lying in his coffin.
Mere sat at the table again, “We covered the bodies with the clothes from the cabin trunk in the bedroom.”
“That’s right.” They’d covered them with William’s old clothes.
“My husband,” Mere cradling her cup, “Used to be quite vain. When his clothes were made for him, he would have a little monogram embroidered on the cuff here.” She touched the inside of her wrist.
William shrugged. “It was very discreet. But it was WH.”
“So, pretending you know nothing of the bodies would be difficult?”
“Slightly. Mere and I thought, we could move them before we sell the land.” William poured more tea into his cup, then held up the pot to see if anyone else wanted any.
Courtney shook his head. “The cave-in might have made the mine too dangerous to enter.”
William picked up his cup and studied it. “Mines are still worked after there’s been a cave-in. Perhaps we should go and see if moving the bodies is feasible and if the extent of the mining can be disguised. Then at least we will know what we’re dealing with.”
“Now?” asked Courtney.
William nodded. “Now is as good a time as any.”
Half an hour later, Courtney stood with William on the ridge near the old house where the slaughter happened. In the ten years since mining stopped on the mountain the trees and ferns had recovered, the bush was thick and green, and the silence was only broken by birdsong.
“If Eugene is right, the mountain won’t be quiet like this for much longer.”
William turned away and studied the view. “No, when we were mining, we lived with the noise of our mill and the stamper, but it was nothing compared to the noise of the batteries that will be built to feed the new battery you say Russell is talking about. Hundreds of stampers clustered together.”
Courtney nodded at the farm buildings. “They’re still in good repair.”
William studied the house and sheds he and John Willis built together. “Yes, I maintain them. It’s a waste having the house empty, but I’m not sure what to do about it.”
Then Courtney followed William down the track to the old miners’ road beside the gorge. This was where the planned railroad would go.
“If the railway line does come through here over summer when everything is tinder dry, sparks from the boilers in the trains will catch and the flames will rage unchecked for weeks.”
“Very likely,” said William. “But there’s nothing we can do to prevent it.”
They rode on to the next claim, the old Anderson mine, dismounted and went over to the entrance. William grabbed the post across the top. “Bring back memories?” he asked as he swung down into the tunnel.
Courtney handed him the lantern and lowered himself down too. “As clear as the day it happened.” This was the first time he’d been back here since they hid the bodies. That was a dreadful few hours with William badly injured, the house a bloodbath and the five of them, him, William, Mere, John Willis and John’s wife Daisy, working all night to obliterate any sign of the men they’d killed.
He looked up at the ceiling of the tunnel. The rock still looked in good shape. He’d expected more damage. The cloud of dust that had followed them out of the mine after it collapsed had been suffocating.
William echoed his thoughts. “It’s still solid here. Come on let’s see how far we can get.”
“Should we leave breadcrumbs?” He was never comfortable in a labyrinth of mines. Mainly because he could never work out how the miners knew where to go.
“No, we’ll follow the rails.”
Something landed on his shoulder. Shuddering, Courtney flicked at the dark brown insect the size of his hand and covered in spikes.
William looked back at him. “It’s just a weta, its harmless.”
“It’s disgusting.” He didn’t like things that scuttled. He didn’t quite climb on a chair the way his sisters did when they saw a mouse, but the feeling was there. And wetas were huge, he preferred his insects to be no bigger than a bumblebee. “They give me the creeps,” he said.
They travelled through the darkness, walking between the rails, a single lantern to light their way. They’d only gone a couple of hundred yards before they came to a rockfall.
William climbed over the stones to a gap near the top, then slid the lantern through the space and peered at the tunnel behind it. “It’s still open further on. If you help me move a few of these boulders we should be able to get through.”
“Is it safe?”
“We won’t know until we’ve tried.”
Courtney climbed up beside William and got a grip on the top boulder. “That’s reassuring.” It rolled down the rockfall. The gap was bigger.
William examined it with the lantern again. “You might be able to get through, it’s a bit tight for me.”
He wasn’t going behind the rockfall on his own. “I’ll help you move a few more stones then.”
They moved enough of the boulders to slither over the top of the gap, then walked further through the tunnels.
William skirted a pile of rubble that had fallen from the wall. “Watch your footing here.” He held the lantern up and Courtney could see a gap in the wall where the rock had come from.
They walked on into the darkness with only the lantern lighting the way. A lot more debris lay on
the floor now, but the timber holding the tunnel together still seemed in good repair. Then, fifty feet on they come across another rockfall.
Courtney stood back. “It looks impassable.”
This time William nodded, and despite his usual optimism, he didn’t even try to scale it. He stood, feet on the rails, hands on hips and studied the pile of rocks. “We’re not going to get through there.”
“No, it’s completely blocked. What are we going to do?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it. There must be a way to get to those bodies, but maybe not through here.” William turned to go back the way they’d come. “Let’s go.”
At the first rockfall they slithered through the gap they’d made.
Courtney climbed down. “How much further on do you think the bodies are?”
William leapt to the floor. “Another fifty yards from where we stopped and from what I remember of the quartz we were drilling through there; I’d say the tunnel will have collapsed the whole way. Once that bit went it’ll all have gone like a pack of cards.”
Back at the house, Mere was just starting to prepare the evening meal. She looked up as they came through the door. “Is there a way through?” she asked as she dried her hands on her apron.
William kissed her on the cheek, pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat. “No, the tunnel is completely blocked.”
Courtney leaned against the door frame. He still envied William his wife. “Blocked in two places,” he said.
William stretched his legs out. “The timbering has held. But the further we got in, the more unstable the rock looked. I think it’ll be too dangerous to try and clear the blockages. We’re going to have to try something else, or just forget it because if I sell the claim as it is, then in weeks, or months, or years that part of the mine will be reopened and Theobald and his cronies will be found. People will start asking questions that are difficult to answer.”
Mere cut the peeled potatoes into the pot. “Do you think John would help us? He was there. He’d understand the problem, and he knows mining.”