by Sonya Heaney
‘No! Bloody hell. No, I didn’t even bloody know about it until it was done.’
Robert shifted his weight, leaning against the small, dusty wooden table that dominated the tiny space.
‘And you found out about it then … how?’
As though Robert was the magistrate himself, Ian Ryan cracked then. He gave names and locations and talked of future plans of the other men. He almost spoke faster than Robert could keep up with, but he filed as much of it as he could away in his memory, for he was also inclined to believe his brother-in-law on this. The fellow was a hopeless liar, and clearly not the slightest bit loyal either to the bushrangers—or his sister.
He’d act on this information, and soon. And he’d hope to God that this was the true story.
‘Here,’ he said when the chattering finally died out. He reached into his coat and retrieved a small bag.
‘You need to leave this place, leave New South Wales, preferably. There’s enough in here to get you away from the region.’
Grey-blue eyes far too similar to Alice’s glared back at him.
‘I’m not takin’ your bloody money.’
‘Take it … and get yourself out of this area before it’s too late for you.’
‘I’m not touching a pound of it. But you’re right on one thing: I’m gettin’ out of here as soon as I can.’
Robert held the money between them a fraction longer, until it became clear the man was serious.
‘Go to Queensland,’ he said, tucking the bag away again. He’d had his chance with it. ‘It rains more than here, but it’ll be warmer in the winter months.’
Robert needed to be gone from there.
‘Januarius,’ he said, and then took another step inside, forcing the younger man back.
His brother-in-law’s eyed widened slightly, and then he nodded slowly.
‘We’re onto the lot of you. The magistrate is, too. Make sure you’re gone before sunrise, Ian.’
Ryan fidgeted. ‘Is she dead?’ he asked again.
‘I can’t say. If you’re a praying man,’ which Robert seriously doubted, ‘I’d be praying right about now. For her first, but also for yourself.’
Robert glanced at the man’s swag, bundled and ready to go, over in a corner.
‘I thought you’d have been off by now. I see the others have already made their start. They’ll not get far, you know. The secret’s out.’
‘I know,’ Ryan muttered, and then squared his shoulders. ‘Oh, I’ll be off in a couple of minutes. I reckon I’ll try a little harder to stay away from the noose for the time bein’.’
Robert inclined his head and resisted asking the fellow if he’d finally come to his senses. No point in antagonising the man when they were so close to being rid of him.
‘Mister Farrer?’
‘Yes?’
‘If your mates are goin’ after the men headed to the houses west of Barracks Flat, they’re goin’ to miss someone.’
He tensed; questioned the truth of it. ‘Who?’
‘There’s a third chap headed for the Baxter house on his own. Figures he can manage that one alone, not get much in the way of resistance. Come an’ go before they even know what’s hit them and all of that.’ He fidgeted again. ‘He’ll be on his way over there now.’
Robert mentally calculated the path out to the property. ‘This fellow’s name?’
‘Wakefield. James Wakefield.’
He nodded his thanks and put his hat back on his head, taking a couple of steps to the door before a memory niggled. He stopped and turned back.
‘Oh, and Ryan? One more thing.’
The other man groaned quietly, and Robert nearly reminded him not to push his patience. He’d met with extraordinary luck so far.
He fixed him with a stare. ‘You sister’s necklace. What became of it?’
The man rose immediately and dug about in his things before removing something and rising.
‘Take it,’ he said, closing the small distance between them and dropping a sliver of metal into Robert’s palm.
Well. That was simpler than he’d expected.
‘So, she’s still livin’ with you then? Me sister?’
‘As she’s my wife now, she certainly is.’
The brother hadn’t known. His reaction was immediate, and of disbelief. Robert held his gaze steadily while Ian sputtered under his breath, and then enjoyed the surprise that widened his eyes when he realised it wasn’t a joke.
‘Well, hasn’t she done well for herself.’
‘I’ve done pretty well for myself, I’d say. If you’re looking for a favour from this, it isn’t the time.’ It’d never be the time.
He scoffed. ‘I thought as much.’ He grabbed his swag and swung it over one shoulder. ‘That’s all then?’
‘I suppose it is. But, Ian? If you do one sensible thing tonight, make it this: stay away from my house.’
***
Not one word about his sister’s welfare, Robert thought as he rode away, careful with Skirmisher on the dark trail. Not a single one. While he’d be eternally grateful Alice’s brother had prevented her from drowning that day years ago, he couldn’t help thinking it was the man’s only saving grace.
Except, perhaps, the information he’d been given now.
Robert wasn’t foolish enough to take it at face value, and he didn’t follow the path exactly as Ian Ryan had told it, but he thought it was advice given in earnest. Noise carried far in the night, and somewhere not too far off he could hear the sounds of men crashing their way through the bush. Ducking to pass under the low branch of a tree, he heard a possum send up a warning call—protecting her baby from man and horse—before they hit open pasture. The Murrumbidgee was visible beyond it, the rippling water catching in the light of the moon.
He brought his horse to a stop and simply listened, waited. There was something unnatural nearby, something that belonged nowhere near the road to the Baxter property in the middle of the night.
Robert withdrew his weapon and cast his senses out.
It was easy to find this Wakefield character in the end. The man moved with carelessness through the night, a man on a mission with no thoughts of being caught. Robert followed him a while, until he reached the point he knew the man would try and cross, where the river narrowed enough to make it an easy enough swim.
He was maybe twenty yards from the chap before he became aware he wasn’t alone, and then Robert rounded him, cutting off his route to the riverbank at the exact moment he looked ready to bolt.
‘Good evening,’ he said as he pulled up in front of him, sliding easily from the saddle. Good Lord, the top of the man’s hat struggled to reach Robert’s shoulder. This would be easier than expected.
‘If I were you, I’d reconsider crossing that water tonight.’
***
Take out the strongest one first.
It was advice Alice drew from God only knew where as she sprang into action, running ahead and swinging the bat at the exact moment the first intruder would’ve used his weapon to force his way into the house.
There wasn’t time for finesse—or moderation.
Thud. It only took one swing, and it was done, the impact of it reverberating through her arms.
The intruder dropped to the ground, and did not rise again.
‘Oh, bloody hell,’ she muttered, immediately in a panic. She’d not meant for the blow to be quite that hard.
But there wasn’t time for fainting yet, because the second man had seen, and was charging at her, despite his bad leg.
I think, Alice decided rather too late, I oughtn’t underestimate men with limps.
‘Thank Christ,’ she said heartily and in all earnestness as two of Endmoor’s men finally arrived on the scene armed with rope, all too eager to belatedly play the heroes, and ready to truss the intruders like tomorrow’s dinner.
She stepped back and let them deal with the second man. Taking out one was more than enough for her for one night
.
‘Bloody hell,’ she said again when Elizabeth appeared at her side, ‘I didn’t know I could do that. Wait a moment … I didn’t kill the fellow, did I?’
The first man wasn’t moving. Actually, he’d have to be dragged away, feet clunking and bumping along the ground, no doubt. He was completely out cold.
Her vision swirled, filling with images of her impending arrest for murder, and—bracing herself for anything—she nudged the chap with the toe of her boot. Did he move then, or had she only imagined it?
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Elizabeth said, taking Alice’s arm and squeezing gently.
Bertie rushed past then, too, his lanky frame supplemented by determination as he joined in the fray. The lame captive put up quite the fight, but with the butler’s help the stockmen subdued him. He sputtered and swore the entire time.
Elizabeth made an unimpressed sound. ‘They’re not so tough now, are they?
‘That one’ll be even worse when he’s behind bars,’ Alice said, also unimpressed. She crept forwards.
‘In all honesty,’ she asked him when he was trussed and trapped, ‘what were you expectin’ to come of attacking Endmoor tonight?’
She received no answer; hadn’t much expected one. The unconscious man stirred a little as he received a similar treatment, turning Alice wobbly with relief. He wasn’t dead, then.
She realised she still held the cricket bat.
‘I ought to keep this,’ she said, contemplating it in the low glow of the homestead’s lights. She could’ve used the thing all those nights ago, back at her old house. It was a damn sight more useful than that little knife she’d had then. She could’ve clobbered each and every one of those men chasing her in April, but then she’d not be where she was now.
‘It might come in handy,’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘Every now and again you might want to use it on my brother’s hard head.’
They laughed at the same time, a relieved reaction to a tense night.
Alice lifted it again, swinging it like someone had bowled her a ball. She’d not played cricket in years.
‘No, not for Robert. Not yet at any rate. But it might come in handy in the future.’
She ran her hand down the smooth surface, remembering the horrid thud of the thing when it made contact with its target, and then came to her senses. She’d not be clobbering anyone in the future if she could help it.
‘How’s the fire going?’ Elizabeth asked one of the men as he came by again, another bucket filled and ready to go.
‘Under control now, more or less. Don’t worry, Miss.’
The air still smelt like charred wood, but beyond Endmoor’s rooftop they could no longer see that frightening orange glow.
Alice turned to Elizabeth. ‘We should go in. There’s no point waitin’ out here and shiverin’ in the dark.’
***
It occurred to Robert before he even reached the gate that he shouldn’t have lingered to talk to the magistrate. Endmoor was lit up from nearly every window as he approached it. The veritable crowd he saw gathered outside, and the scent of smoke in the air as he left the road and began his approach to the house, told him he’d missed some sort of excitement that night.
‘Good Lord,’ he said under his breath, urging Skirmisher on, the sense of satisfaction that had wound around him seeing the outlaws apprehended, of seeing Ian Ryan disappearing into the night, even with his pockets insufficiently lined, dropped away from him in pieces with each step of his approach.
Had he left the women with enough protection? Had they miscalculated how many men were involved in the crime? Had he left the household exposed to danger?
He was a fool, and one who right then was ready to keel over in fear.
It was Mary Adamson’s silhouette he recognised first, unmistakeable in size and form, the voluminous skirts a giveaway.
He retrieved half his breath at the sight of his sister next. She stood off to one side, head bent in discussion with Bessie.
And yet the vice gripping his chest continued to squeeze as his eyes still searched, and searched …
Whatever had happened at the house was significant enough to draw everybody on the property out well after midnight, and he didn’t miss the relief in the shout of greeting he received when Old Adamson finally noticed his arrival and started down the drive to meet him.
Robert brought the horse to a stop and dismounted onto unsteady feet.
‘What’s this about?’ he called before he met the man, leaving the horse to investigate a bush, and striding ahead alone.
‘We’ve had our own bit of excitement here. Didn’t want to be left out of things, did we?’
Robert scanned the small crowd up ahead.
‘Where’s my wife?’ The man wouldn’t be joking if there was still trouble, surely.
Adamson frowned as he followed Robert’s gaze.
‘Not a clue, actually. She was here a moment ago.’
‘Was she all right? What happened?’
They approached the house as the other man filled him on some of the night’s dramas. It was enough to make Robert weak in the knees and shudder with belated fear. He’d thought he’d left the homestead well protected. He’d thought they could get to the men before they got to Endmoor.
Entering the house on his own, he wandered the halls, peering into rooms, and finding them empty.
Finally, as a last resort, he went to the kitchen and found her there. Alice was alone and mumbling to herself—and inexplicably contemplating a cricket bat in her hands. The cat sat on the bench beside her. Or, rather, half on top of her.
He’d heard she was fine, and he’d believed the words when Adamson had said them, but seeing it for himself was an entirely different matter.
Robert paused in the shadows and watched as she set the bat aside on the table and gently ran her fingers along Gertrude’s fur.
‘You’re far too heavy for playin’ the lap cat, I’ll have you know,’ she said. ‘You’re nearly the size of a sheep. But you don’t know that, do you? You think you’re small, and that this is comfortable. So I’ll allow it, for now. It’ll spare you the embarrassment tonight.’
He fell in love with her in that moment. Completely and without condition.
Robert had no idea what to do with that new knowledge, but the realisation nearly made him stagger.
‘Alice,’ he said softly, and her head snapped up and found him as he entered the room.
She smiled then, and it was unguarded and relieved, but then she removed the cat from her lap, stood a little awkwardly, and studied his face. The smile slowly faded.
‘Oh,’ she said, her voice a little odd. ‘There you are. You’re late, Robert, but at least you’re ’ere in one piece.’
And then whatever scold she’d been building up to was cut short as she paled suddenly, swayed once, and—before he could make a grab for her—dropped in a heap at his feet.
Chapter 21
Alice was sitting up before Robert could even reach her.
She rose fast, pushing on her hands as he knelt beside her and took her firmly by the shoulders, though she didn’t seem to need the support. In fact she didn’t sway at all. Hell, she already looked recovered.
It didn’t stop a tremor from running through him.
‘Alice, my God …’
Pale blue eyes turned on him, gone fiery with incredulity.
‘I fainted!’ she said, and sounded furious about it. It seemed she was as swift and practical about fainting spells as she was about everything else in life.
He kept his tone low, comforting. ‘So you did.’
‘I can’t believe I fainted.’ She was thoroughly disgusted. ‘It must’ve been because of that man I had to whack earlier. For a few seconds back there I was certain I’d killed ’im. Seems shock came on later than I expected.’
Robert stilled—forced calmness and sanity into his tone.
‘The man you had to … what?’
As she explained her nig
ht to him, Robert let go briefly, testing her steadiness and ascertaining she was too annoyed with herself to keel over again. She continued talking as he got his arms under her and rose with her in them, too full of outrage to protest being carried.
He took her out of the room and into the surprisingly deserted corridor, turning away from the voices of the others and towards their room while horrific ideas of what might’ve happened that night when he’d left his wife and sister alone filled his mind.
‘And then,’ she said, telling the story as though it wasn’t going to drive him to a heart attack, ‘I sneaked up behind him with that bat of yours, and right at the moment he would’ve turned and noticed me—’
‘Good God, Alice, you shouldn’t have done any of that.’
‘Maybe, but it worked, didn’t it? Sorry, by the way, for taking the bat from your cabinet.’ Her arms tightened around his neck. ‘But by then I was so angry that those men’d come here, that I could’ve beaten ten of them, I reckon.’
He reckoned she might be right.
He reached the threshold and paused, gazing down at her cheeky little face.
‘I should have been here. I swear, Alice, I’d thought I’d left you with enough protection or I’d never have—’
‘Oh, that,’ she said with a scoff and a flap of her hand. ‘It should’ve been fine, but then someone set the old outbuildin’ on fire, and so …’ She struggled against his hold until he let her down on the bed, and then huffed out a breath between tight lips. ‘It’s all over now, and the men’re watching the rubble in case, you know …’
In case an ember reignited and the whole of Endmoor was burnt to the ground, she meant. If Robert hadn’t enough trust in Adamson and the others he’d be out there now himself, watching the place until the sun rose and the last of the smoke cleared from the ashes.
However, he had someone to watch over for the rest of the night, especially considering what Bessie had whispered to him when he’d entered the house just now, cheeks all pink with distress.
Hoping she’d stay put for the time being, he started off across the room, and was reaching for a cloak his wife had draped over the dresser when she spoke again.
‘This is all very mortifyin’.’