The Bushranger's Wife

by Cheryl Adnams

  The man looked shaken. Being bailed up was obviously a more frightening prospect when you didn’t know the assailant.

  ‘I couldn’t see his face clearly,’ Sam said. ‘My eyesight isn’t so good anymore. He wore a hat low across his eyes, and a kerchief across his face. Fancy-looking gun, one of those new-fangled things, and he had a foreign accent. Mean bastard too, struck me bung knee with the handle of his whip. Not gentlemanly like Jack the Devil used to be.’

  ‘Where did it happen?’

  ‘Not far out of Bacchus Marsh,’ Sam said. ‘Other side of the ravine.’

  It could have been anyone, Jack thought. Garrett was long gone, and it didn’t sound like him anyway. While Jack had been going straight, more and more gangs of bushrangers were popping up all over the district. Young guns with bad tempers and itchy trigger fingers. There was no art to it anymore, no manners. He suddenly felt like a very old man.

  When the couple had retrieved what was left of their belongings, Pru saw to it that they were delivered immediately to The Bath Hotel. But once they were gone, she turned on him and Sam, anger firing in her eyes.

  ‘I swear I had nothing to do with it,’ Jack insisted before she could say anything, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘Tell her, Sam.’

  ‘T’wasn’t him, Mrs,’ Sam promised. ‘I didn’t know this was coming. I didn’t know the chap. But he ain’t someone I want to come across again. I think it’s time I retired, Mr Fairweather. I don’t see so well anymore, and the roads are getting busier and more dangerous.’

  ‘We understand,’ Pru told him, and taking out the wages tin, she paid him his due, and a little more, Jack noticed. ‘Thank you for your service, Sam.’

  ‘You’ve been a good friend, old man,’ Jack said, shaking his hand. ‘Let’s go have a nobbler of whiskey for old times.’

  ‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Sam agreed, relaxing a little more.

  Jack gave Pru a wink. ‘Let’s lock up early today. We have no more carriages coming in. That’s the joy of being the boss, right?’

  ***

  ‘Do you miss it?’

  Jack pushed up onto his elbow, his lean muscular body stretched out beside Pru in bed, naked and glorious in the warm December evening.

  ‘I swear to you, I had nothing to do with that robbery today.’

  ‘That’s not what I asked,’ she said. ‘I asked if you miss it. The bushranging.’

  He walked his fingers lightly across her naked, swollen belly, igniting little fires once again as though they hadn’t made love only minutes before. ‘My fingers get a little itchy when I see something of value. Once a thief, always a thief, hey?’

  ‘But you don’t take,’ she said, running her hands through his thick brown hair.

  ‘It’s not even the value of the thing,’ he said, rolling back to stare at the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling. ‘It’s the challenge, the thrill. I’ve been picking pockets and taking what wasn’t mine for as long as I can remember. It’s what comes naturally to me. Back in England, it was steal or go hungry. I told you I was fifteen when I left the boys’ workhouse, and the manager sold me to work at a piggery outside of London.’

  She remembered, nodded.

  ‘A group of us older boys were transported and once we were close enough to the city, we escaped. Lived on the streets, stole food to survive. I was good at it too. We worked the docks a lot. People left their luggage lying about, it was easy pickings. Plenty of people were heading out to the new colony of Victoria by then, and I could hear them talking about gold. Gold that just sat on the ground, waiting to be picked up and carted away so a man could make his fortune. I kept offering myself up to ships as unpaid labour and eventually one took me on. Bloody horrible trip that was. I’d never been on a ship before, what the hell did I know about the ocean.’

  Pru smiled. She could feel the baby kicking away under her hands as Jack talked. He, or she, knew the sound of daddy’s voice.

  ‘It was hard work,’ Jack went on. ‘I was seasick for the whole first week and still had to work through it. But I made it to Melbourne and joined the masses heading up to Ballarat to find my fortune. All I found was more squalor, more poverty. Ballarat was a hellhole in those days. You’d scarcely believe it, to look at it now. I dug and dug and found a few bits of gold, enough to buy food to eat and some more equipment to keep digging. I had no education when I arrived, but I met another digger, a girl.’

  His face softened as he mentioned her. She was intrigued. ‘A girl?’

  Jack nodded. ‘She was a digger too, if you can believe it. A girl digger! Who’d ever heard of such a thing? She was tough and spirited. Often got into more trouble than I did. I met her gambling on dice behind one of the pubs. She skinned me, and everyone else there. We became fast friends after that. And the little amount of education I have is thanks to her. She taught me to read and write—did so with lots of people in the camps. She was a hell of a girl.’

  ‘Sounds as though you were in love with her. What happened to her?’

  His wistful smile said it all. ‘She loved another. Married a deserting soldier after the Eureka Stockade massacre—nice bloke—they headed north, I believe. I never saw, never heard from her again. I was already bushranging by then. I became very, very good at it. It came naturally to me.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Doing additions in a book and paying wages and taxes, does not.’

  Pru studied his face closely. ‘Are you unhappy, my love?’

  His eyes met hers quickly and he pushed up once again. ‘No.’

  He said it so definitively she couldn’t argue that he was being honest.

  ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘My child will never know the pain of an empty stomach, the loneliness of living on the streets, the biting cold of a hard winter. When we met, you accepted me for who I am, but you’ve made me into a better man than I ever thought I could be. I am so happy I could burst with it.’

  He kissed her and joined her hand across her belly, just as the baby kicked again.

  ‘Ha!’ he said with a laugh. ‘He’s a tough little thing.’

  ‘He liked hearing his daddy’s story,’ she said, putting her other hand to his cheek. ‘So did I. Thank you for telling me. You prefer to forget your past, but it’s what made you the strong man you are today. You’re a survivor, Jack. And I know you better now. And I still love you whether you are Jack the Devil or Jack Fairweather.’

  ‘We’re both survivors,’ Jack said, kissing her belly. She sighed as contentment turned to arousal when his kisses continued their journey to places of pleasure.

  ***

  Rolling dough for bread, Prudence had to stop and rub her aching back.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  She turned to see Jack frowning at her.

  ‘Nothing, just a bit sore,’ she said smiling. ‘And he or she is kicking up a storm.’

  Jack moved to her and placed one hand on her belly while he massaged her lower back.

  ‘Can you not work sitting down?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose,’ she said. ‘But then my arse gets sore. It doesn’t matter what position I’m in these days, I’m always uncomfortable.’

  ‘It can’t be much longer to go, can it?’

  She smiled. He’d been like a little boy waiting for Christmas the last week. And Christmas itself was not far off.

  ‘Not much longer,’ she agreed, and let him lead her to the table to sit down.

  She watched him move the dough and the rolling pin and all the other implements she had been using to the kitchen table.

  ‘I feel like such a fat cow,’ she said sulkily.

  He leaned down to kiss the top of her head. ‘You look beautiful.’

  ‘You just like the size of my breasts.’

  He chuckled. ‘Aye, there is that.’

  A knocking at the door broke into their conversation. Jack gave her a wink and went to see who it was.

  ‘Sergeant Carmichael,’ she heard Jack say. A wave of worry rushed through her. Why would
the sergeant be here? She stood and went to the living room to see Jack welcoming the sergeant and young Constable Mickey Doyle into the house.

  ‘Mrs,’ the constable tipped his hat.

  ‘Sergeant Carmichael, Constable Doyle,’ Pru greeted them with a nod. They all sat. The sergeant in an armchair, the constable on the loveseat by the window and Pru sat beside Jack on the sofa, her hand in his. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’

  ‘There has been an accusation made, Mr Fairweather,’ the sergeant began, taking out his little notebook.

  ‘An accusation?’ Pru asked, her heart rate increasing a little. She suddenly felt a little nauseated. ‘Against whom?’

  ‘Against Mr Fairweather.’

  ‘And what is the accusation?’ Jack asked.

  ‘A gentleman says he rode in one of your transport carriages only to be held at gunpoint by a bushranger,’ Sergeant Carmichael began. ‘He was robbed on the Melbourne to Ballarat road around Bacchus Marsh, and lost more than forty pounds worth of gold as well as some of his personal belongings.’

  ‘I’m aware of the case,’ Jack said. ‘But the highway is a dangerous place.’

  ‘What is the accusation, sir?’ Pru cut in.

  ‘The gentleman believes the coach driver may have been involved in the robbery.’ The sergeant again flicked through his notepad. ‘One Sam Carruthers.’

  Jack laughed. ‘Sam is a hundred years old if he’s a day. There is no way he could be or would be involved in a robbery.’

  ‘Oh? The gentleman said the driver was too quick to stop the carriage and allow the robbery to take place.’

  ‘He probably didn’t wish to be shot,’ Pru tossed in, annoyed. The baby was annoyed too, clearly, judging by the harsh jab she received. She rubbed her belly, trying to calm the baby down.

  ‘What was he supposed to do?’ Jack joined in. ‘Try to outrun bushrangers?’

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ the sergeant acquiesced.

  ‘It doesn’t matter now anyway. Sam Carruthers doesn’t work for me anymore,’ Jack said. ‘He retired after that robbery. I think it frightened him.’

  Sergeant Carmichael flipped his notebook closed. ‘Still, we had to look into the business.’

  ‘I thought we had agreed you would no longer harass my husband, Sergeant.’

  ‘And I have not harassed him, Mrs Fairweather. Although, in the course of my investigations, I did discover that Fairweather Transport seems to have had more than its fair share of highway robberies over the years,’ Sergeant Carmichael suggested. ‘Three times more, it seems. This is not the only suspicion raised, not the only accusation.’

  ‘Really?’ Pru asked. What did he know? What other information had he gleaned from other victims of Jack the Devil.

  ‘Surprisingly, the robberies appear to have lessened lately.’ The sergeant looked at Prudence’s belly then. ‘I wonder why that is.’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly say,’ Pru answered, doing her best to hide her nerves and discomfort under the unwavering and suspicious stare of the sergeant. This man was much smarter than she had given him credit for. He wasn’t only investigating Sam Carruthers, he was still investigating Fairweather Transport, and Jack along with it.

  But before she could think on it any further, a strong cramp gripped her belly and she tightened her own grip on Jack’s hand, bringing his attention to her.

  ‘Pru, what is it?’

  ‘Jack,’ she said breathlessly, and awkwardly levered herself up off the couch. ‘I think my waters just broke.’

  All the men in the room leaped to their feet at once, and took at least two paces each away from her. Their shocked faces were a sight to behold, and if she hadn’t currently been fighting the pain of what she was sure was a contraction, she would have laughed.

  Instead she took a deep, cleansing breath and straightened her posture.

  ‘Gentlemen, my husband and I have a more pressing matter to deal with at this moment. Might we talk about these ridiculous accusations some other time?’

  ‘Of course,’ the sergeant said looking a little anxious, as though she may drop the baby right then and there on the floor. ‘If we can be of any assistance—’

  ‘Sergeant, unless you’ve squeezed a walnut out of your nostril recently, I’d say you have no idea what I need right now.’

  ‘Of course, Mrs Fairweather,’ he said again, his face going crimson.

  It didn’t take any more prodding to get the men to leave, and they did so in haste.

  ‘My wife,’ Jack said with pride as he leaned in to kiss her warm and sweaty forehead.

  ‘Jack, we are going to talk about these other accusations, but right now I need you to go into town and get the midwife,’ she said, trying to keep the fear from her voice. If she let Jack know just how scared she was, he would never be able to do what she needed him to do.

  ‘Will you be alright alone?’

  Just as he asked, they heard more horses arriving. Jack rushed to the window and seeing Katie and Bobby, he threw open the front door.

  ‘What in the hell were Sergeant Carmichael and Mickey doing here?’ Bobby called out before he’d even dismounted. ‘We passed them on their way out the gates.’

  ‘I’ll explain on the way,’ Jack said. ‘The baby is coming, I have to fetch the midwife in town.’

  Katie leaped from her horse and handed Jack the reins.

  ‘Go,’ she said looking at Pru standing in the doorway. ‘I’ve dealt with birthing mothers before. I’ll take care of things ’til the midwife gets here.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jack said and swiftly mounted. With one last look back at Pru, he bolted with Bobby out the gates of Little Windsor and onto the road to Ballarat.

  ***

  An hour later, the men returned and Jack barged into the house in a panic.

  ‘Pru!’ he called.

  ‘Bedroom!’ she yelled back before letting out a loud groan.

  He walked into the room to find her in her nightdress, on her hands and knees on the bed with Katie rubbing her back.

  ‘Where’s the midwife?’ Katie asked, snapping him out of his stupor.

  ‘Oh, she wasn’t there,’ Jack answered fidgeting as though he wanted to do something. ‘She went to Castlemaine to deliver twins or something.’

  ‘Oh God.’ Pru groaned as another contraction hit.

  ‘Don’t worry, Pru,’ Katie told her. ‘Mothers have babies without the help of midwives all the time. You’ll be just fine. I’ll be with you.’

  Pru climbed from the bed and kissed Jack’s cheeks.

  ‘Katie’s right,’ she said, rubbing her belly. ‘We’ll be just fine. Now go outside. I have a feeling you are about to hear some very indelicate words come out of my mouth and I really would rather you didn’t think your wife the foul-mouthed sailor.’

  ‘Aye, aye, Captain.’ He kissed her again before stepping to the bedroom door and closing it behind him.

  ***

  It was hours.

  Agonising hours.

  Jack paced the front porch of the house with Bobby.

  It was agonising for him and, considering the promised interesting expletives he could hear coming from the bedroom, he had no illusions that the agony Pru felt was well beyond his imagining. But the colourful language was not what worried him—her vocabulary was rather inventive, he thought—it was that he’d never heard a woman shriek like that before.

  He hadn’t lived in the camps at Ballarat for long during the gold rush. And when he had first started out ranging, he’d always preferred to set up camp between towns, or to make use of the boarding houses in towns. Therefore, he had never heard the screams of women in labour as they fought to bring their children into existence.

  And there had been a lot of babies brought into existence in those first years.

  The gold rush had seen Victoria’s population explode unlike anywhere else in the world at the time.

  Another strangled cry reached out from the house and tugged at his chest.
<
br />   ‘How do they do it?’ Bobby asked.

  Jack studied his friend. He looked a little wide-eyed and green around the gills.

  ‘One of nature’s mysteries I guess,’ Jack said, wishing he had an answer. He knew plenty about a woman’s anatomy. But he could scarcely imagine what nature’s mysteries were doing to his wife’s petite body right this second.

  ‘You’ve seen animals born though, right?’ Bobby went on. ‘I mean, how do women do … that?’

  ‘Bobby, I really don’t need to have visions of my wife giving birth to a horse, if you don’t mind,’ Jack shot back, his agitation finally getting the better of him. ‘So will you shut your pie hole and … go for a walk or something.’

  Bobby didn’t need any more encouragement. He stepped down off the porch and wandered across towards the creek.

  Sitting down on the porch steps, Jack scrubbed his hands across his face, hoping to erase images of horses and cattle giving birth in barns. His poor Prudence. What had he done to her? His part had been easy—not to mention enjoyable. She’d had to carry the baby for nine long months. Dealing with the nausea, the aches and pains, the constant fatigue and now this. Childbirth.

  He didn’t want to think about how many women died in childbirth, or how often the child didn’t make it. He didn’t want to think about it. But now that he had started thinking about it, it was all he could think about.

  Dammit!

  Unable to sit still, he stood and paced the porch, listening to the screams and groans of his beloved wife. He could stand it no more. He needed an update. It was his house too, blast it, and he wouldn’t be shut out of it while his wife fought to give him a son or daughter.

  Pushing open the front door, he pounded into the house. He was about to open the door to their bedroom, but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard another cry. A strange cry of higher pitch. The cry cut straight to his core and he would swear he had never heard a sweeter sound in his life.

  Laying his palm flat against the door, he closed his eyes and thanked God for maybe the third time in his life. A moment later the door swung open and he fell forward into the room.

  Katie stepped back, startled at first, but then grinned like a madwoman.