“We could put an orchard by the side of the house, with a vegie garden,” Claire said. “And one of those new tennis courts out the front. Oh, Dennis, I can see it now. It’ll be so beautiful. But wait.”
Claire spun away from the view and ran to her horse. Taking a pad of paper and a pencil from her saddlebag, she ran back to Harrington and sat cross-legged on the ground, the pad cradled on her calves.
“Before we change anything,” Claire said, “I’m going to draw it the way it is now. The day will come when people will wonder what it all looked like before we came here.”
“You do that, Dear.” Harrington tussled her hair affectionately. “I’ll be over on that log, writing up my report. What say we stay here tonight? And tomorrow, we’ll head back to join the others. We may be in time to give a hand with the muster, before we have to drive them down to Sydney.”
“That sounds like it’d be fun.” Claire smiled at him. “You promised me some hard riding. But so far, all we’ve done is plod along between tumbles in the grass.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Yes and no. I’m not overly fond of plodding,” Claire said.
“Well I’ll be blowed.” Richard reined in his horse and swung down. Tying the reins to a sapling, he walked over to the edge of the drop, and looked down into the valley. “There’s your love birds. Looks like they haven’t been traveling anywhere near as hard as we thought they would. They’ve been spending more time in each other’s arms, than in their saddles.”
“Are you sure it’s them?” MacLaughlin asked, while dismounting and walking up to check.
“Too right. I’d recognize their horses any – hey, steady on.” Richard twisted away from the hand MacLaughlin tried to clamp over his mouth. In twisting away, the knife that was meant to enter under his ribs and puncture his heart, only cut through the side of his stomach and nicked the bottom of his lung.
Leaping away from the near embrace and stinging pain, Richard saw the blood smeared knife in MacLaughlin’s hand. He put his hand to the base of the pain in his back, and then brought it to his front, covered in blood.
“You bloody, murdering swine,” Richard cried. “You’ve done for me. Well you’re not getting me for free, you prick. You’ll remember the day you took on Richard Pike, by God.” With his left hand, he drew a long bladed knife from his boot and crouched slightly, his weight balanced evenly on the balls of his feet. “MURDER, BLOODY MURDER,” Richard roared.
MacLaughlin lunged. Richard sidestepped the bigger man’s thrust, slashed at his arm and then skipped back out of MacLaughlin’s reach, onto the point of the saber Caruthers drove through his back.
Harrington bolted for his horse when he heard the yell come down from the ridge above them. “Cock your guns, girl. And stay down.”
The gray mare sprayed gravel from under her hooves when she felt his weight settle on her back and his thighs clamping her chest. In a flat-out, belly-down gallop, she streaked for the animal pad that led to the top of the ridge. She cleared the fallen logs and wombat holes in her stride, skittering around rocky outcrops, and never hesitating in her lunging climb, until at the top, Harrington saw the redcoats, and pulled the reins.
“What the devil’s going on? Who’s doing all the shouting?”
“Afternoon, Harrington,” Caruthers said. “Sorry to bother you like this. We’ve been following this lout all day. Caught up to him here, spying on you two, I’d say. Tried to arrest him, but he wouldn’t come quietly. Pulled a knife on MacLaughlin would you believe? And even cut him. Well, enough was enough. Can’t have one of these half-castes carving up our enlisted men, now can we? So I stuck the blighter with my saber. I must say, it certainly took the wind out of his sails.”
“Who the hell is he?” Harrington asked.
“Was, actually. And I’m not at all sure,” Caruthers said. “Not that it matters. He’s just another dead nigger now.”
“Damn you, Caruthers. There’s precious few niggers in this country. And it’s bloody obnoxious to call anyone, just another dead nigger.”
“Well excuse me, Mr. High and Mighty Harrington. I didn’t know these black bastards meant so much to you.”
Harrington leapt off his horse, picked Caruthers up by the lapels and slammed him against the nearest tree. It was the blade pressed under his chin that stopped him from head butting Caruthers.
“It’s tempting to let you dismantle him, Dennis,” MacLaughlin said, while pressing the blade hard enough to indent, but not puncture the skin. “But I’m going to need him. So be a good chap, and put him down easy.”
“What the hell is this, Bob?” Harrington said, releasing the little man.
Before MacLaughlin could say anything, Caruthers lashed out with a low blow to Harrington’s groin, causing him to gasp and begin to sag. Caruthers grabbed a handful of Harrington’s hair and was positioning himself to drive his knee into the sagging man’s face, when MacLaughlin’s fist connected with the little man’s jaw. The blow lifted Caruthers off his feet, sending him sprawling on the ground.
MacLaughlin took hold of Harrington’s arm and helped him to straighten. “Dammit, you two. Will you stop behaving like you’re in a barroom brawl. You’re both officers of the crown, for God’s sake, not drunken louts.”
Harrington shrugged off MacLaughlin’s hand and drew himself up to his full height, taking deep, ragged breaths.
“You, sir,” Harrington said to Caruthers, “are a swine. When we return to civilization our seconds will arrange a duel, where it will be my great pleasure to blow you to hell.”
“You’ll do no such thing, Dennis,” MacLaughlin said. “Wake up to yourself, man. Miss Wordsworth’s down in that valley wondering what the devil’s going on, and probably scared out of her mind. This is no time for you two to be behaving like a couple of fighting cocks. Now settle down.”
“All right, Bob. I’ll settle down. But I’ll not withdraw my challenge unless this swine apologizes for that low blow.”
“Mr. Caruthers?” MacLaughlin said. “We have a purpose here. So be a good chap, and say the nice words.”
Caruthers glared at MacLaughlin, then turned to Harrington. “Sorry, Harrington. In the heat of the moment, I forgot myself. I apologize.”
Harrington nodded, but said nothing until he walked over and turned the dead body onto its back. “Good God, You’ve killed Richard Pike. Why? Why were you chasing him?”
“We had reason to believe he was riding a stolen horse,” MacLaughlin said.
“Really?” Harrington looked across at the horse with Richard’s saddle, and recognized Tarrapaldi’s carthorse. After a few seconds thought, he walked to the edge, cupped his mouth, and called, “Claire, Clive Caruthers and Bob MacLaughlin are up here. Everything is all right now. But we need to go back. Mount Brutus and come join us.”
When he heard her acknowledge his call, Harrington turned back to the two men. “Lets get him covered with his blanket, and across his horse before she gets here.”
MacLaughlin was helping Harrington tie Richard’s blanket covered body across the carthorse’s back when Claire arrived.
“Who’s in the blanket?” Claire asked.
Harrington looked across at her, a pained expression on his face. “It’s Richard Pike. He was resisting arrest. He attacked and cut Bob. So Clive killed him.”
“No! It can’t be.” Claire leapt from her horse and rushed to lift the blanket from the body’s face. “Oh, my God!” Tears sprang to her eyes. She turned to face Caruthers. “You bastard, Clive. Why’d you have to kill him? He was such a nice boy.”
Harrington took her in his arms, turned her face into his chest, and began patting her gently on the back while she sobbed.
The patting stopped in mid stroke when he heard the pistols being cocked.
“A very touching scene, I’m sure,” MacLaughlin said, with a leveled pistol in each hand.
“But now we have you two together, it’s time to move on. Put the manacles on them, Clive. Chain them together with their arms around that tree, while we work out how we’re going to do this.”
“Do what, Bob?” Harrington said, pushing Claire away. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Don’t move again, Dennis,” MacLaughlin said. “If you do, I’ll put a ball in her guts.”
Harrington froze. “Come on, Bob. This isn’t funny.”
“It’s not meant to be,” Caruthers said, locking a manacle onto Claire’s wrist, and then locking the other end to Harrington’s wrist.
“Gently now, Dennis,” MacLaughlin said. “Move over to the tree, so Clive can put the other manacles on.”
Caruthers locked the second pair of manacles to their wrists so they were chained together, with the tree between them. Moving carefully, he positioned himself behind Harrington, and delivered as hard a kidney punch as he was capable of.
Harrington gasped, sagged to his knees, his face twisted in pain while Caruthers quickly frisked him, and removed the pistol and knives Harrington had hidden in his clothing.
“God, that felt good,” Caruthers said. Putting the weapons out of reach, he turned to Claire. “But it wasn’t half as good as this is going to feel.”
Claire waited until Caruthers had his arms around her, his hands feeling her breasts. Without moving her knee, she snapped her foot up behind her, driving her heel into his groin. As kicks go, it wasn’t a particularly hard one. But the pain was enough to cause Caruthers to gag and sag. Then Claire leaned into the tree, twisted sideways as much as the chains would allow, and delivered a mule kick to his lowered head, that sent him spinning to the ground.
MacLaughlin chuckled. “That was pretty to watch. But I’m afraid it wasn’t very wise. He’s going to be very angry when he gets up. And when he’s angry, he gets very nasty. So I’ll tell you what.” Putting one pistol in his belt, he moved in behind her carefully, extended the other pistol and pressed it firmly into her spine. “You stand perfectly still while I check you for weapons, and you’ll still be able to kick when I’ve finished. How does that sound?”
Claire glared at him over her shoulder.
“Talk to me, girl,” MacLaughlin said. “I don’t want to put a ball through your spine. But I will if you so much as twitch. I need to know you understand that.”
“I understand you’re a pig.”
“I’m not really. I’m being nice to you. Because if I check you for any weapons, then he won’t have any excuse to touch you again. So here we go,” Maclaughlin said. “Hold very still now.”
MacLaughlin ran his free hand over her expertly, finding and removing the two pistols and a knife. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said, moving away to check on Caruthers, who was groggily climbing to his feet.
With all but one of the pistols tucked into his belt, MacLaughlin put a steadying hand on Caruthers arm. “Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not all right. The bitch damn near kicked my head off.”
“Uh huh. Well perhaps the next time you go near her, you might treat her with a little more respect.”
“Respect? The next time I go near her, I’m going to kick her guts out. And then I’m going to have my way with her.”
“Oh dear. Did you hear that, Dennis? Clive is really upset with your lady. I tell you what. You tell me what you’re up to with her out here, and I’ll see that he doesn’t hurt her.”
“What the devil are you talking about?” Harrington said. “What’s got into you, Bob? Why’re you doing this?”
“The gold, Dennis. Don’t tell me you don’t know anything about it, because I won’t believe you.”
“What gold are you talking about? Nathaniel Johnson wrote the governor a letter explaining his side of the fiasco down on the river. He also said he could supply the army with quality horses. So Macquarie sent me out here to investigate. He chose me to do that because Nathaniel knows me. I’m the one who recommended him for a ticket-o’-leave,” Harrington said.
“Uh huh. Well let me bring you up to date,” MacLaughlin said. “Johnson’s dead. So’re his black in-laws, Billy Pike, and John Newman. They were all buried under a rock fall back in that valley you left the Pike boys at. Now here’s the interesting bit. When they were buried, they had with them, at least two sacks of gold nuggets the size of oranges and bigger. We know that because we saw them loading the nuggets onto the cart they had.”
“You must’ve been dreaming, Bob. There’s been rumors of gold around here for years. But nobody has actually found any. You know that.”
“Is that so?” MacLaughlin turned to Caruthers. “Show him the sample I gave you.”
Caruthers took the rock from his pocket and held it out for Harrington to see.
“Oh, really,” Harrington rolled his eyes skywards. “A couple of nuggets embedded in a piece of sandstone, and you come up with the theory there’s nuggets as big as oranges being carried around. Come on, Bob. You’re smarter than that.”
“You’re right. I’m smart enough to know Macquarie is not going to send you out here, to talk to a runaway convict about horses. Macquarie couldn’t care less about horses. But he cares very much about keeping the gold story a secret. And I think that’s why you’re out here with Miss Fancy Pants. I think you know where the gold is. And I want you, to tell me,” MacLaughlin said.
“Even if I knew, Bob. What good would it do you? As soon as you try to sell gold, Macquarie’ll come down on you like a ton of bricks.”
“Yes. But that’s where Clive comes in, you see. I know there’s gold in that valley. I don’t know where the big nuggets are yet, but I’ll find them. To do that though, I’m going to have to have control of the land. Clive is the land commissioner. He can grant the land to himself. Then when we find the gold, he can take the first shipment back to England with him. I’ll stay here and manage the land, shipping gold to Clive in England in closed boxes. Nobody’ll know we’re taking gold out. Clive’s happy as my agent in England, with a steady supply of gold being sent to him. I’m happy here with a good place to live. And any machinery or equipment I need, my agent, Clive, will send me.”
Harrington looked at Caruthers, then back to MacLaughlin. “You honestly believe you can trust Clive with a shipment of gold?”
“Of course,” MacLaughlin said. “I’ve already explained to him that if he tries to roger me here, I’ll kill him. And if he tries to roger me once he’s back in England, I’ll have him killed, and get another agent.”
“That’s gunboat diplomacy, Bob. He’ll agree to anything you say, while ever your gun’s at his head.”
“Shut your mouth, Harrington. I’ve agreed to the sergeant’s plan because both of us get what we want. Not because of any childish threats he might make,” Caruthers said.
“I don’t make childish threats, Clive,” MacLaughlin said. “But enough of this. We need you to tell us where the gold is, Dennis.”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
“All right. If that’s the way you want it, so be it. Clive, find out if Claire knows where the gold is. But be careful she doesn’t kick you again.”
A cruel smile twisted Caruthers lips. He stepped to the side of Claire and kicked her viciously, in her lower abdomen. Claire screamed and collapsed to her knees, sobbing in agony.
“For God’s sake, you animal. Don’t,” Harrington roared. “She’s with child.”
“Not any more, she’s not,” Caruthers said, looking at the red stain spreading down the inside of Claire’s thighs. “It’s your fault this happened, you know. If you’d told us what we want to know, it wouldn’t have happened. But never mind. What’s past is past. Let’s see what sort of harm you’ve done.”
Caruthers took out his knife, slipped it under Claire’s belt and sliced through the leather. Turning the blade slightly, he slip
ped the knife under the waistband of her trousers, and began sawing the cloth.
“Stop it. Damn you to hell. Stop it,” Harrington said. “The gold’s in a cave in the middle of the valley.”
Caruthers paused. “Really? And where exactly, in the middle of the valley?”
“Get away from her,” Harrington said. “Unshackle me so I can treat her, and I’ll tell you.”
“Wrong answer.” Caruthers went back to cutting away the trousers.
“Stop it, Caruthers. So help me,” Harrington said, “if you hurt her anymore, I’ll cut your heart out, and feed it to the dogs.”
“I don’t think so.” Caruthers smiled, and pulled the remnants of cloth away, leaving Claire naked from the waist down. Placing the point of the knife against the inside of her thigh, he slowly applied pressure.
Through a fog of pain, Claire felt the blade entering her flesh. Instinctively, she lifted her knee and spread her thighs to stop the new pain.
“Kick me, will you?” Caruthers snickered. “Well guess what’s going to happen to you.” He lowered himself to his knees behind her, put his knife on the ground, and began undoing his belt.
“For God’s sake, Bob. Please,” Harrington said. “Stop him. She’s bleeding inside.”
“Tell us exactly where the gold is,” MacLaughlin said, “and it’ll stop.”
“The cave’s under a big rock. There’s a secret, underwater opening to it. I’ll take you there and show you how to get in. But please, let her go.”
MacLaughlin nodded, leveled his pistol at Caruthers and cocked it. “Leave your pants on, Clive. The man’s going to take us to the gold.”
“Good enough.” Caruthers smiled, slapped Claire on the rump, and rose to his feet, fastening his belt. “But we’ll keep this piece of crumpet with us,” Caruthers said. “Just in case he decides to change his mind.”
MacLaughlin fetched the horses, then stood back, pistols cocked, while Caruthers unlocked the manacles and pointed to the carthorse while saying, “Take the nigger off, leave him on the ground, and put her up, Harrington. Then you get up behind her. That way,” he said to MacLaughlin, “they won’t get far if they try to bolt.”
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