The Cartographer's Secret

by Téa Cooper

  Evie trailed after Olivia, into the house, through the overwhelming silence. Only a few weeks ago they’d been a family of five eagerly awaiting Joshua’s birth; now only two of them remained to rattle around in the big house beneath the shadow of Yellow Rock. Despite knowing Pa and Miriam would return for the wedding she felt bereft and a tad envious.

  ‘You can wipe that pouty look off your face. We’ve got plenty to keep us busy.’ Olivia pulled the tin from the larder and cut two large slices of fruit cake. ‘Can’t work on an empty stomach. The next lot of drovers will be through soon, we’ve cattle to go north to the Liverpool Plains, three mares due to foal, never mind the mess in the kitchen garden. The place has gone to wrack and ruin since Alice passed. What are you going to take on?’

  After Grandfather and Grandmother Maynard died Olivia had moved into the main house, fulfilling the role of housekeeper as Mama became more and more frail. Joe, the farm manager, and his wife Nell had taken up residence in the farmhouse but Olivia still insisted on taking responsibility for the mares. Evie knew she’d be called to help and it would mean a night or two in the stables. She didn’t mind. Anything she could do to temper the misery of Mama’s passing would be a relief and the sight of the new foals always gladdened her heart. ‘I’ll sort out the kitchen garden. The chook shed needs cleaning too.’

  ‘We’ll get young Dicken in for that. He’s good on the end of the shovel.’

  ‘And Joe will be back from Maitland tomorrow afternoon with the wagon.’

  ‘If he doesn’t get waylaid by a keg of beer. He’s got a list of supplies to pick up.’

  An hour passed as they planned the chores and all the while Evie’s fingers itched to get into Pa’s study. ‘I’ve got some work to do for Pa too,’ she finally admitted.

  ‘Then that’s how you’ll spend your evenings. And no roaming. We go together or not at all.’

  Evie swallowed the temptation to whine. How could she complete her map if she couldn’t go anywhere alone? The lure of Pa’s study hovered like an intangible treasure, a reprieve after the miserable sequence of events. Mama’s confinement, the tenterhooks that had fuelled their prayers for poor little Joshua, and their sorrowful passing and then Pa’s sudden and totally unexpected decision long before the acceptable mourning period had passed to see Miriam married had left her at sixes and sevens. ‘Has Miriam known Edward Rawlings long?’

  ‘Never really thought about it. William’s mentioned him of course. I’ve got some memory of his mother Charlotte introducing Miriam around the town, into society, during the school term. Macquarie Street is quite the place to live.’

  ‘Mrs Burdekin lives a few doors down. She shares Pa’s passion for Leichhardt. He named a river and a duck after her. Pa was most impressed. She subscribed very heavily to the Ladies’ Expedition that went in search of Leichhardt and his party.’

  Olivia wrinkled her nose. ‘Throwing good money after bad if you ask me. Everyone knew Leichhardt and his cronies were taken by the natives. Don’t understand why they couldn’t accept it.’

  ‘No, that might not be true. Pa told me only recently …’ The look on Olivia’s face stopped Evie and she gulped down the rest of her tea. Olivia held Leichhardt solely responsible for Pa’s misfortune and any mention of his name brought forth a torrent of derogatory abuse. Now was not the time to let the age-old recriminations fly. She pocketed another piece of fruit cake. ‘I’ll go and see what can be done in the kitchen garden and collect the eggs.’

  ‘That’s my girl. Mrs Hewitt will be here soon. Peg started today, big strong girl like her will sort things out in no time and she’ll need the eggs, she’s got baking to do.’

  It was well past eight o’clock before Evie lit the lamp in the study. She could easily have fallen straight into bed but the opportunity shone like Sirius in a winter sky, alluring and tantalising. Stifling a yawn she lowered herself into Pa’s chair and spread her hands palm down on the worn leather inserts, gazing at the piles of paperwork and journals.

  They dated back to 1842 when he’d first met Leichhardt on the banks of the Hunter River. He’d kept a daily journal, field notes he liked to call them, a habit instilled in him by Leichhardt himself; a series of soft, leather-bound notebooks, fingerprints and ink splotches marking their covers, indicators of the happy-go-lucky man he once was.

  Her fingers trembled as she picked up the oldest of the journals and turned to the frontispiece.

  William Ludgrove—Early Travels with Ludwig Leichhardt 1842

  A rush of guilt heated Evie’s skin. Opening Pa’s journal felt akin to prying. After a moment or two his familiar looping handwriting soothed her. He’d asked her to sort out his papers and records and his journals formed part. He’d given her permission.

  Tuesday, 27th December 1842

  Yellow Rock: Lat -32.4181 Long 151.3463

  She smiled. Ever the surveyor, he’d recorded the coordinates. It would make her job easier. She could cross-reference the locations on her map with his notes.

  I cannot believe the great honour Doctor Leichhardt has bestowed upon me. I am to accompany him on his travels through the Hunter. What a fortuitous day it was when I found him wandering on the banks of the Hunter River. I intend to ensure he will never lose his way again.

  It was with much excitement that I finally packed my bags. Tonight will see me at Glendon where I will meet with Doctor Leichhardt and our journey will begin. The man inspires me with such enthusiasm for the country of my birth and he seems to have a greater understanding than I of its natural resources. I look upon this as a challenge. If I can prove myself, hone the skills I have acquired, then perhaps Doctor Leichhardt will find me worthy of inclusion in his future expeditions.

  She paused before turning the page and studied Pa’s small pencilled drawing beneath the writing—a winding track leading to the Hunter River. A track she and Pa had travelled many, many times. But this was different—Pa astride his horse, hat tipped at a jaunty angle and saddlebags bulging, drawn before his accident. Her heart twisted as her finger traced his upright form, a representation of his undamaged self.

  Pushing the journal to one side she opened her saddlebag, chose a fine new brush and copied his illustration to her map before returning to the journal.

  Wednesday, 28th December 1842

  Glendon: Lat -32.5923 Long 151.2716

  We begin our travels with an exploration of Helenus Scott’s estate. I have my sextant, compass, watch and chain with me and intend to keep perfect records of precise locations as an example of my abilities.

  And then followed a list of dates and locations, and very little else. She skimmed through the names and coordinates—Mirannie Creek, through Wolke Tolke, Mount Tyroman to Bukembelong and Peg Top Hill, all the places Pa had told her of, none she had marked on her map.

  The lamp flickered and died. Hours must have passed while she’d sat cross-checking the coordinates and marking the locations, knowing they would have to be rechecked for accuracy—more hers than Pa’s; she doubted she’d find any errors in his meticulous calculations. A little light from the crescent moon illuminated the room so she weighted the stack she had created, picked up the notebook and trailed up the stairs. She had no need of a candle; every step of the way, every creaking stair riser was as familiar as her own drawings.

  Once in her room she lit the bedside lamp, removed her boots and slipped under the quilt, knees pulled up to form support for the notebook.

  Wednesday, 11th January 1843

  Yellow Rock: Lat -32.4181 Long 151.3463

  This morning I had the pleasure of escorting Doctor Leichhardt to the summit of Yellow Rock.

  The weather was clear. To the north-north-east Dyrinng appeared in its full glory, such a very considerable mountain mass in darkest blue. All remaining ranges were seen very distinctly. Mr White’s Road Range, Mirannie Range and Jack Shea. Following the fire and ensuing rain the slopes are covered in kangaroo grass. We caught a kangaroo rat in a tree trunk and later a yo
ung kangaroo, which impressed Doctor Leichhardt with its gentleness and tameness.

  Pa and Leichhardt, together on Yellow Rock! She could picture the scene so clearly. The kangaroos were still as tame now as they had been then. Perhaps she had Pa to thank. Another picture for her map. Pa would like that. He and Doctor Leichhardt offering handfuls of sweet grass to one of the joeys.

  Evie’s head gave a terrifying lurch as sleep overcame her. She scrubbed at her eyes, bit back another yawn and slid beneath the covers.

  Olivia’s rough shake woke Evie. Light streamed through the open window scalding her eyes, her limbs felt as heavy as lead and the misery of the unwritten ending to Pa’s story hovered.

  ‘Look at you! Still in your clothes. What time did you come to bed may I ask?’ Olivia’s eyes slid towards the journal on the nightstand and her hand hovered.

  Evie snatched it away, certain Pa would not appreciate his personal journals being shared. ‘I was reading and fell asleep.’

  ‘There’s water in the jug. Wake yourself up and put on something old. We’ve got work to do, dirty work.’

  And so, the days passed with no news of Pa or Miriam and gradually the pain of Mama’s passing eased as Evie became more and more immersed in Pa’s notes. Joe had returned with a mighty headache and a wagon full of the supplies and before long Yellow Rock once more ran to Olivia’s satisfaction. A fact confirmed when she said, ‘I’ve given Peg and Mrs Hewitt the day off. Bring your sketchbook and we’ll take a picnic, breathe the air, see what’s what. I’ve a mind to check the boundaries.’

  Olivia’s suggestion would provide the perfect opportunity to confirm the compass points and the routes Pa and Leichhardt had taken. The chance of escaping on her own was nil. She would make the most of Olivia’s suggestion.

  By the time she reached the stables Joe had the horses saddled and their picnic stowed and Olivia sat fidgeting with the reins wanting to be gone. ‘I thought we’d take the track up towards Yellow Rock.’

  Exactly what she wanted to do. Her new saddlebag took but a moment to attach and as she smoothed the soft leather she remembered the excitement in Pa’s eyes as he’d confided his plan for their book. She couldn’t wait to make a start. Only last night she’d read in Pa’s journal of a track through the pass, a shortcut towards the Upper Hunter. It came out not far from the route the drovers took north. From the top of Yellow Rock she’d be able to locate that and confirm the path Pa and Leichhardt had taken to Mount Royal.

  As they ambled along she brought out her new sketchbook and a pencil. She wanted to notate the track, the larger trees and any rocks which could be used as landmarks. Foolish perhaps. Why bother when she knew it as well as the lines on the palm of her hand? But this was for Pa’s book; others would see it, they wouldn’t know Yellow Rock as she did.

  Olivia picked up the pace, clicking her tongue and urging her horse forward up the steep slope. Before long they would have to leave the horses and climb the last part of the track on foot. Evie took only a moment to sketch a rough indication of the tall outcrop of grass trees, their stems crowned with spear-shaped seed pods glistening in the morning light, then the shallow dip in the rocks, a natural basin where a pair of King-Parrots fought over a pool of water still cool from the fall in temperature overnight.

  ‘Where would you like to stop?’ Olivia turned and smiled, the flush on her cheeks an indication of the pleasure she found in being away from the never-ending responsibility of the homestead and the horses.

  Evie shaded her eyes and picked out the last sight of the track before it took a sharp right-hand turn to begin the steep ascent. ‘Just before we reach the crest. I want to see how I’ve done.’

  ‘How you’ve done?’ Olivia cast a look down at the sketchbook.

  Evie’s hand lifted, the same overpowering need to cover her work she’d experienced when Pa and Miriam left. She’d always shared her drawings with Olivia whenever she’d asked, rather suspected that Pa had framed her paintings at Olivia’s suggestion.

  ‘That doesn’t look like one of your usual pictures.’

  ‘It’s not.’ Evie dragged in a sigh. What had caused this sudden need for secrecy? Besides Olivia might well have something to add. She’d known the area when it was nothing more than wide open spaces. ‘I’m making a map.’

  ‘We don’t need a map. I’ve been bringing you up here since you were knee-high to a wombat.’

  ‘It’s something Pa’s asked me to do.’

  ‘He’s not going to be coming up here. Hasn’t for years. That leg of his wouldn’t handle this rugged track, all the bumping and twisting. If his dog cart overturned he’d be stuck like a pig in mud.’ Something in the tone of her voice made Evie turn. Olivia’s smile had vanished and a ferocious frown marred her forehead. ‘You’ve been reading William’s journals. It’s putting ideas into your head.’

  ‘He left them for me.’ She averted her eyes, not wanting to tell Olivia about the piece she’d read last night, of the girl with the fiery red hair Pa had met at the Scotts’. She still wasn’t certain she hadn’t read too much into his words but his description reminded her of the books Mama liked, novels she’d called them. She’d asked her to read aloud to her as her time with Joshua grew closer and she hadn’t the strength to hold the book. ‘You know I’ve been going through them. He asked me to.’

  ‘No good’ll come of it. Obsessed he is. That man, Leichhardt, brought nothing but despair to this family, ruined everything with his high-flown theories and illusions. Your father would be a darn sight happier now if he hadn’t taken off on that fool’s errand.’ She reined in her horse with unusual ferocity and jumped to the ground.

  Olivia’s fluidity of movement took Evie by surprise. Mama always moved with a languid grace as though her feet barely touched the floor and rarely set foot beyond the garden Pa had built for her around the house. The two sisters were as different as she and Miriam.

  ‘Look lively. I’ll let the horses wander, they won’t take off.’ Olivia removed the saddles and bridles and stashed them beneath a gnarled tree trunk.

  Evie slipped her saddlebag over her shoulder, relishing the snug fit and the soft leather. Together she and Olivia slithered and scrambled up the steep track to the summit.

  The property spread before them, a fine embroidered quilt, every fence line, every outhouse, the orchards and the paddocks, the homestead and the farmhouse. The mares nothing more than small dots roaming in their neatly fenced enclosures, foals gambolling at their feet. ‘You came up here to save time. You can see everything. I’d never appreciated the advantage it gave you.’

  ‘My secret is out.’ Olivia raised her finger and pointed. ‘That’s Joe sloping off early to get back to Broke before the store closes.’ She pointed to a flurry of dust turning onto the Singleton road. ‘He’s run out of ale I’ll bet.’ The tiny toy-like wagon made a sharp turn and bowled down the track. ‘And there’s Oxley.’

  ‘I hadn’t noticed he’d left us.’

  ‘Took off before we left the horses. He’ll be here soon enough for his lunch.’

  Evie spent so many hours on the rock, more than Olivia knew, for she paid little heed to Pa’s order that she should always be accompanied. She looked down at her crude sketch and extended it, filling in the meandering path of Wollombi Brook, the waterholes and the track that led from Broke to Wollombi and beyond, and in the foreground she couldn’t resist the beginning of a tiny sketch of Oxley’s waving tail.

  ‘Here.’ Olivia offered a large sandwich and an egg for Oxley who reappeared puffing and panting with something that looked remarkably like rabbit fur caught between his teeth. Then she bent to stoke the fire she’d built within the well-used circle of stones, lifted the lid of the billy and threw in a handful of tea leaves and finished by tossing a gum leaf from her pocket into the boiling water.

  The warm tight feeling of a day spent in the sun prickled Evie’s skin, something she relished even though it meant she’d receive the rounds of the kitchen from Mrs
Hewitt for tarnishing her poor beleaguered complexion. A rash of freckles would dot her nose and cheeks, thanks to Pa’s Scottish ancestry.

  Nothing different from past trips but somehow everything was different. Evie no longer focused on the minute detail of the drawings she usually made but what lay beyond the boundaries of her world and where the tracks might lead.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Olivia reached out and touched her arm.

  She jumped. ‘What? Yes, I’m fine.’

  ‘You’ve got that far away look in your eyes.’

  Which was Olivia’s polite way of asking if she was going to have one of her episodes.

  Nine

  Yellow Rock, 1911

  Lettie tramped after Olivia, marvelling at the older woman’s stamina and trying hard to mask her snatched breaths.

  ‘It’s important to know your roots,’ Olivia said with a crooked smile as she led the way down a path fragrant with the scent of freshly slashed grass. ‘Up behind us that’s Yellow Rock, leastways that’s what we’ve always called it.’ She gave a shrug and spread her arms. ‘The view from up there gives a good sense of the property. Margaret and John Ludgrove, your great-grandparents, had the first land grant then my parents, Mary and Alexander Maynard, took the second, side by side. They had plans, big plans for this new country, families joined in marriage, common business interests. My father served in India. It was his idea to breed horses and ship them out to the army. Right from the outset the Hunter Valley was one of the great horse breeding areas of the colony. We imported the best English and Irish thoroughbred bloodlines, and bred horses suited to Australia. When the Indian Army began purchasing remounts, we had a head start with my father’s contacts. To own and ride a Waler was paramount to …. What’s the best motor car money can buy?’