The Cartographer's Secret

by Téa Cooper

  ‘Not a chance.’ He gestured to the horse. Its sheer size sent a spasm of terror rippling through her. ‘I’ll give you a hand. Good job you’re suitably dressed because it’ll be astride with two of us.’

  ‘Two of us.’ She echoed with an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak, her gaze riveted on the tufts of hair poking through the open neck of his red shirt.

  Before she had time to gather her thoughts warm hands clasped her firmly around her waist, her feet left the ground and Nathaniel hoisted her astride the terrifying animal.

  In one swift movement he swung up behind her, reached forward, caught the reins, clicked his tongue and they were off. Oxley lolloping beside them as though he made a habit of racing through the night next to a massive, snorting beast.

  Just as she began to calm they crested the hill and the track fell away, sheering downhill at an alarming angle, forcing her towards the animal’s pricked ears. She slammed her eyes shut, every muscle in her body cramped tense.

  ‘Relax. You won’t fall. I’ve got you.’

  Which was exactly what was causing her concern. His strong arms cradled her making her breath come in horrible sharp sniffs. And she was hot, very hot. Perspiration soaked the back of her shirt where it rode up and down against the wall of his chest. ‘I want to get down.’

  ‘No chance.’

  No chance of so many things. Why had she embarked on this madcap scheme? What made her think she could find out what had happened to Evie when numerous search parties had failed? And now this. He’d just picked her up and tossed her like a bag of flour on the foaming creature and galloped down the side of a vertical cliff face in the darkness …

  ‘We’ll be off the mountain before long. Far better than sitting by the creek freezing to death.’

  Freezing. She’d love to be freezing. Perhaps this was what Hades felt like.

  She peeled her eyes open. The track had levelled again, cleared to a wide open plain. A large red moon crowned the mountain backdrop. Her breath came in short sharp bursts, every muscle in her body trembled, black spots danced before her eyes illuminated by the obscene red glow. The thundering of the hooves on the track filled her ears drumming out all other sound.

  And then she heard Thorne’s laugh. He was up there somewhere enjoying every moment of her agony. ‘What’s that noise?’

  ‘Kookaburras. They always go off at this time.’ His warm breath fanned the tender skin at the back of her neck. ‘Almost there.’

  After an eternity he pulled up outside a small slab cottage. ‘Frog Hollow. Denman’s place. We’ll bed down for the night and in the morning take a couple of his horses and pull that machine of yours out.’

  Hauling herself upright she rubbed her hands over her face, blinked her eyes into focus. Lamplight illuminated a huge barn with great double doors. The word Smithy burnt into the lintel.

  Nathaniel swung down, leaving her perched on the top of the great steed, then held out his arms, his fingers splayed. She gulped. There had to be another option. How could she throw herself into his arms?

  ‘The alternative’s yours.’ He whistled Oxley and turned on his heel.

  She gazed down at the ground, fought a wave of vertigo. What else could she do? ‘I’d like your help.’

  He steadied her with hands around her waist, she slipped into his arms and for a split second she relaxed limp and boneless against him as he held her safe, until he placed her gently as a precious keepsake on the gloriously stable ground.

  With a heartfelt sigh she stepped from his arms and brought her hands up to her flaming face, thankful for the shadowy moonlight.

  A man with a heavily lined face and wiry hair dusted with silver stepped down off the crooked verandah. ‘What’re you doin’ back here?’

  Nathaniel gave a laugh, perhaps a groan. ‘Brought you a couple of visitors. They need a bed and we could all do with a bit of tucker.’

  The man’s dark eyes sparkled then he bent down and ran his hands over Oxley’s ears. ‘In exchange for the story about where you found them?’

  ‘What do you say, Lettie?’

  She had nothing to say, couldn’t form a single word, her legs trembled and she could barely hold herself upright.

  ‘Lettie, eh?’

  ‘Letitia Rawlings.’

  ‘Are you indeed?’ The old man’s fingers rasped across his chin. ‘Yeah. Now you mention it I can see the family resemblance.’

  The resemblance? Lettie doubted the situation could become any more surreal.

  Lettie’s eyelids drooped. The flickering fire light and a full stomach thanks to a remarkably good stew had worked their magic. After a decent night’s sleep, even outside under the stars, she’d be ready to return and sort out whatever problems Lizzie might have after a night in the creek. With Thorne’s tools and the box of spare parts tucked under the back seat she’d have Lizzie back on the road in no time.

  ‘You’ll have to get her and the dog back first thing. Poor old Olivia will be beside herself. Think history’s repeating.’ The old man’s sotto voce pierced her sleepy, befuddled brain. ‘And what’s more you should be well on the way to Sydney by now. They won’t delay the auction. Think she can manage a horse on her own?’

  ‘If her performance on the way here was anything to go by I don’t like the chances.’

  Lettie shot vertical, brushing aside the memory of his muscular arms cradling her. ‘I’m perfectly capable of riding a horse on my own.’

  ‘Thought you’d dropped off.’

  ‘I’m wide awake. And if you’d the first inkling of good manners you wouldn’t discuss someone in their presence.’ Especially not someone whose body refused to cooperate. Pain shot through her thigh muscles as she lumbered around the fire. ‘I told Aunt Olivia I might be gone overnight. She won’t be worried.’

  Denman gave some sort of snort, though how he would know, or care, what Olivia thought she had no idea.

  Unwilling to ask for any more help, she tossed her choices in her mind. Returning to Yellow Rock without Lizzie wasn’t an option. If she set out early, maybe cadged a lift to Aberdeen or Muswellbrook, she could hire a wagon, some horses, some help to pull Lizzie out. The repairs she could manage herself. ‘I don’t need you to come with me, I’m quite capable of going alone.’

  ‘You will not go alone.’ Nathaniel’s voice brooked no argument and his words quashed her bravado.

  ‘I can manage the repairs. I need some help towing the car out.’

  ‘I’ll take you back to Yellow Rock tomorrow morning and worry about the car later.’

  ‘I’m not leaving Lizzie.’ She couldn’t. It would be like leaving Thorne in the middle of nowhere. Deserting him. ‘Can’t you drag the car out on your way to Sydney tomorrow and I’ll continue on from there?’

  He raked his fingers through his thick hair and sighed.

  Denman’s mouth curved in a smile. ‘I’ll go with the girl, take the wagon. She can give me a ride in that contraption of hers. Always fancied myself at the wheel of a motor.’

  Lettie exhaled, unclenched her fingers. ‘All I need is some assistance righting the motor and dragging it from the creek. The rest I can manage.’ She hoped, swallowing the bitter aftertaste of her shattered pride.

  Nathaniel rocked back on his heels, arms folded and a tilt tipping the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Sit down, Nathaniel. You’re giving me a crick in me neck.’

  Nathaniel dropped down onto the makeshift seat and she followed suit across the fire, contemplating her failed plan in the ashes. The smoke swirled and shifted blowing directly into her eyes.

  ‘Good cleansing stuff, smoke,’ Denman said with a grin. ‘Always finds the person who needs it. Now listen here. Nathaniel, you need to be in Sydney, Letitia must sort out this motor of hers, and Olivia needs to know Letitia’s come to no harm. Agreed?’

  The voice of reason. She grunted her approval.

  ‘This is what we’ll do. Get a decent night’s sleep. Nathaniel, you sort out Olivia
on your way down to Sydney in the morning. I’ll take Letitia back, we’ll get the motor out and bring it here.’

  ‘If she can get the contraption going.’

  ‘As much as it may come as a surprise to you I have an excellent understanding of the workings of the engine. My brother—’ ‘Thorne, that would be.’

  Her head came up with a snap, a flurry of smoke stinging her eyes. How did the old man—

  Before she could ask Denman turned to Nathaniel. ‘You’ll do as bid, boy. I’ll take the wagon and if necessary we’ll hitch the car up and tow it back here. Can’t be that difficult.’

  ‘There won’t be any necessity to tow it back. I told you—’

  ‘You get the thing going then you’re on your way back to Yellow Rock and Olivia won’t have to worry herself to a frazzle.’

  No, that wouldn’t work. She had to get to Dartbrook. What was the matter with her? She’d almost forgotten the reason for her trip. ‘How far is Dartbrook?’

  ‘A few miles up the track.’

  Nathaniel let out a mighty sigh and rubbed his hands over his face as though she’d told him she wanted to go to the moon.

  ‘I am looking for the Halls’ place.’

  Denman pinned her with a solid stare. ‘Why?’

  She opened her mouth to answer and changed her mind. Something about the old man’s knowledge of the family, of her, of Thorne. ‘How do you know I had a brother called Thorne?’

  ‘Known the Ludgroves and the Maynards a long time.’ He fixed his gaze on the smouldering fire.

  And there was more to that story than anyone was offering. She’d rather ask Denman after Nathaniel left. ‘I think your plan is the best.’ She offered what she hoped was a winning smile. ‘I’d very much like your help, thank you.’

  At that moment the smoke swirled and sent a cloud in Nathaniel’s direction. He wiped his eyes and stood. ‘Enough of your reminiscing, Denman, Lettie needs her beauty sleep and she’s nursing a sore bum.’

  The old man gave a bark of laughter. ‘Right then, that’s agreed. Nathaniel, you can bunk down with me and we’ll let Letitia and Oxley have the barn. Go and get her a couple of blankets. She’ll be comfortable enough up in the hayloft. The rest can wait until morning.’

  Twenty

  By the time Lettie woke the following morning the sun was high and every muscle in her body screamed. Not only that, Oxley had vanished. He’d spent the night curled against her back providing a welcome security. She eased her way down the ladder from the hayloft and stumbled outside hoping against hope Nathaniel wouldn’t notice her lopsided gait.

  The old man sat, as he had last night, in front of the fire, his gnarled fingers wrapped around a steaming tin mug, Oxley at his feet. ‘Tea?’ Without waiting for an answer, he poured her a cup, ladled in a heap of sugar and handed it over.

  Not game to abuse her muscles any more she remained standing, sipping the brew. When they’d arrived last night, she’d paid very little attention to the property. Neat as a pin, the slab cottage stood central, the barn where she’d spent the night flanking the right-hand side and a workshop, the doors wide open, on the left. Rows of blackened tools hung from the rafters. All settled and neat as though it had stood forever. ‘Have you been here long?’

  ‘Twenty and a bit years. Once I gave up droving I moved up here with Nathaniel. Got a good little business going. Aberdeen’s on the stock route. Everyone needs a blacksmith at one time or another.’

  Over twenty years ago … Nathaniel could only have been a boy. Almost as long as Evie had been missing. What Lettie wouldn’t give to be following in her footsteps a few days after she’d disappeared. It was too long. Evie would no longer be a girl, even though Olivia thought of her as such, she’d be a middle-aged woman, married with children, grandchildren maybe. But if that was the case why hadn’t she gone home or at least let Olivia know where she was? ‘Where’s Nathaniel?’

  ‘Left. Decided to get the milk train to Singleton, pick up a horse there. Planning to get to Sydney in two days. Don’t like his chances but we’ll see. Coming to your rescue put him back a bit.’

  It hadn’t crossed her mind to question why Nathaniel had been on the road, or whether he had time to rescue her and bring her back here. ‘I’m sorry. Why didn’t he say something?’

  ‘And do what? Leave you sitting up to your neck in the creek for the night?’

  ‘I wasn’t up to my neck …’ Her words petered out as she caught the look on Denman’s face. ‘I could have walked back to Muswellbrook.’

  ‘Bit of a trek.’

  ‘I didn’t thank Nathaniel.’ A flush flew to her cheeks. She couldn’t rid herself of the suspicion that he had been aware of the way her body had reacted to his closeness.

  ‘He’ll get over it. And Olivia will know where you are. He’ll call in on his way past. Can’t have the old girl worried.’

  Old girl! Denman looked a darn sight older than Olivia with his heavily etched face, long ears and flyaway hair. ‘You know Aunt Olivia?’

  He flicked the remains of his tea beyond the fire. ‘Well enough. All the drovers do. Been passing through since I was a boy. Sorry business, Evie disappearing.’ He gave Oxley’s ears a rub and leant back.

  Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Her mind darted back to the night at Yellow Rock, Olivia’s swirling skirts and ribald laughter, her familiarity with the drovers and the sheer pleasure on her face when they arrived. And Nathaniel, the dances they’d shared, and last night. She lifted her hands to her warm cheeks. ‘And you knew Evie?’

  ‘We all knew Evie. Lovely little thing, always with her paints and pencils.’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘Joined in the search, we all did. Never found her.’

  Well perhaps, just perhaps she might find some answers …

  ‘Reckon it’s too late now.’

  Surely he didn’t believe that the rock had taken Evie. If she’d come to grief close to home someone would have found her remains by now. The hairs on the back of her neck rose to meet the memory of the strange sensation she’d felt when she’d stood on the top of the rock looking out over the vast plains, and the dream, the dream she’d had the night before she’d found Evie’s dress on the chair beside her bed.

  ‘Enough of this nonsense.’ Denman rose as if sensing her retrospection. ‘I’ll hitch up the wagon and we’ll see about this motor of yours. I’ve a mind to bring it back here. Always wanted the chance to have a close look at one of them.’

  Except that wasn’t what she wanted to do. She’d far rather go to Dartbrook. See if she could find out any more about Andrew Hume and why Evie had been interested in him. Heavens alone knew where the answers lay. Never mind the answers, the questions. She wouldn’t need any help fixing the car, she was confident Thorne’s lessons would hold her in good stead. She had a tyre repair kit and beneath the back seat a jack, pliers, spanners, a hammer, a tyre pump and all manner of other bits and pieces.

  ‘Can we come back via Dartbrook? You said it was down the road a bit.’

  ‘You’ll get a fly up your arse if you’re seen with me.’

  Which was all very strange. She tipped her head, not sure how to ask the question. She didn’t need to.

  ‘Bad blood. We’ll get your motor out first then you can go and have a word.’

  With a thoughtfully provided saddle blanket beneath her fragile backside and Oxley jammed between her and Denman, Lettie settled back to enjoy the unfolding panorama she’d missed cradled in front of Nathaniel in the dark the previous night.

  The journey to the creek where poor Lizzie lay marooned was slow and tedious but the heavy carthorses didn’t miss a beat and Denman made no effort to increase their pace. For the first few miles he sat sucking quietly on his pipe, his eyes following every deviation in the track. It wasn’t until they reached a large expanse of unfolding paddocks that he spoke, his voice a low rumble.

  ‘Rossgole. Two hundred acres give or take, every one of them good soil, well grassed. Young Nath
aniel’s always wanted a part of it. Felt a connection to the place. Could call it his life’s dream. Once he gets back from the auction in Sydney with the paperwork all signed and sealed we’ll be making the move. Has a mind to put his name to stud stock, settle down.’ His hand swept out in a wide arc. ‘Be in the next few weeks.’

  So that was why Nathaniel had to be in Sydney. Heat rose to her face. ‘Why didn’t he tell me? Will he get to Sydney in time?’

  ‘He’ll give it his best shot.’

  ‘I wish I’d known but I couldn’t go back with him. I couldn’t leave the motor.’

  ‘All turned out for the best. It’ll be fine.’

  ‘I hope so. What about your blacksmith shop?’ She couldn’t imagine he’d get much business this far from town.

  ‘Comes a time for a man to slow down. Unless I can get meself one of these motors. Denman, the Travelling Blacksmith. Has a nice ring. Like one of them circuses, now that’d be the go.’

  She shot a look at him from under her lashes. Sitting this close to him in the bright sunlight the map of wrinkles on his weathered face pointed to a hard life. How old was he? She chewed her lips wondering if she dared ask and thought better of it. What business was it of hers, only idle curiosity, nothing more.

  ‘I reckon I’ve done me time. Years in the saddle, droving, then me blacksmith shop. Know just about every stockman and drover who’s travelled these parts and most of the bullockies, everyone calls into the blacksmith shop.’

  Lettie fidgeted on the seat, taking the weight off her sore muscles. ‘Did you ever come across Andrew Hume?’

  ‘Hume? Not right sure. Why do you ask?’

  ‘He grew up at Dartbrook. His father was the overseer on Hall’s property in the 1840s.’

  ‘Let me see. That’s going back a bit. Memory’s not what it used to be. Me dad was a drover up this way, before my time.’

  There was something about the way he sucked on his pipe and stared into the distance that made Lettie push on. ‘His mother and father moved to Maitland, but Andrew didn’t go with them.’