The Cartographer's Secret

by Téa Cooper

  ‘That’s a darn sight quicker than a wagon.’ Denman walked around the car, smoothing his hand over the paintwork, wiping away the dust and tutting at the scrapes and scratches. ‘Once we get back to Frog Hollow I’ll stoke up the fire in me shed and see if I can get some of these bits and pieces welded back on.’

  ‘Really it doesn’t matter. How far is it back to Yellow Rock?’ Suddenly she couldn’t wait to be gone. ‘Fifty miles?’

  ‘’Bout that.’ He scratched his chin, hovered for a moment as though he wanted to say something then shook his head and ambled off in the direction of the horses.

  Lettie stuck two fingers in her mouth and blew, trying to emulate Denman’s whistle, but achieved nothing but a pathetic hiss. ‘Oxley! Where are you?’ The dog was becoming a nuisance. Better to let him have a wander because they’d be stuck in the car for hours and she was determined to make Yellow Rock before nightfall.

  It seemed churlish to leave but the sun was high and she wanted to be on the road as soon as possible. Her skin prickled; she could sense Olivia’s concern.

  She made a quick tour of last night’s camp site, searching for Oxley, then joined Denman. ‘Nathaniel will have told Olivia where I am, won’t he.’

  ‘Said he would. No reason to doubt him. Not ever.’

  ‘I really think I should go. The motor is running quite well and the wheel will hold. I won’t need the lamps as long as I’m back before dark.’

  ‘Reckon you’re right.’

  They ambled back to the car. ‘And it doesn’t look as though there’s too much damage.’ He bent down and wrapped his hands around the wheel and gave it a good shake. ‘That’ll hold, no worries. Might be a good idea to call in and see Armstrong at the forge in Wollombi when you get back. Get him to check it over for you, fix the spindle and the lights.’ He pulled out a piece of twine and fastened it around the dangling lamp. ‘That’ll hold firm, in case you need it.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll call in to the forge when I get back. Have you seen Oxley?’

  Denman stuck his fingers into his mouth and produced a magnificent whistle which sent a curl of jealousy through her. ‘Will you teach me to do that?’

  ‘Not now. Takes a bit of practice. Next time.’

  But would there be a next time? How strange. She’d given hardly a thought to Miriam and Pater since she left Sydney and she was torn between leaving Denman and worrying about Olivia, and at the same time her thoughts kept drifting to Nathaniel. Oxley’s wet nose buffeted her thigh.

  ‘Thank you for your help.’ She held out her hand, laughed as she realised he had an arm full of bridles and other harnesses for the wagon; instead she wrapped her arm around his shoulders. ‘I hope I see you again soon.’ As she pulled back the glitter of what might have been a tear in Denman’s eye caught the sunlight.

  ‘Off you go now.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Don’t want Olivia on my back, telling me I didn’t look after her niece.’

  ‘Grand-niece.’ Lettie corrected. ‘She’s my great-aunt.’

  ‘Right. Give her my regards.’

  Long ribbons of bullock wagons and jolting horses wove their way down the winding road. Carriers taking wool bales and goods to Sydney, passengers perched atop, every space utilised and once in a while, when the road widened, Lettie managed to pass, waving hands and shrieks marking her progress. Then she’d crank up the speed on the flat even surface until she reached another group and slowed again until she could pass. Oxley surveyed the scene with a regal stare, perched happily on the front seat, none of his previous desire to leap out of the car evident. There were hills but nothing as steep as the climb into Singleton and Lizzie handled everything with ease.

  They made better time than she’d imagined and the sun was still above the hills as she crossed Monkey Creek. Oxley let out a howl of pleasure and jumped into the back seat and stood with his paws up on her shoulders, ears flying in the breeze and his tongue lolling.

  ‘Almost home.’ Home? That’s what it felt like. And as unsettling as her sense of failure. She was no closer to finding out what had happened to Evie than when she first learnt of her disappearance. She wanted the truth. Not Miriam’s version, nor Olivia’s, nor Denman’s. The facts. But a thirty-year divide had created an impenetrable barricade.

  She flew through Broke. A crowd of children playing on the common rushed to wave as she sped past. Oxley’s excited barks, right in her left ear, almost deafened her.

  With a sigh of relief she skidded into the driveway inhaling the sweet clean air, the now familiar tang of eucalyptus and citrus, and bowled down the drive and drew to a halt beneath the spreading angophora.

  Before she’d managed to remove her goggles, Olivia yanked the door open and wrapped her arms around her. ‘Let me look at you.’ She held her two inches away from her face and stared hard. ‘I was worried.’

  Lettie gave her a big hug and then disentangled herself and pulled off her goggles. ‘Didn’t Nathaniel let you know what happened?’

  ‘Yes, yes. But that’s not the same. Down, Oxley, down. You’re filthy and you smell of rancid rabbit, rats and rotting leather. Go! Come along, come along. I want to hear all about it. Everything. You are not to leave a single moment out.’

  Which was exactly what was worrying Lettie. She had nothing to tell. Without answering she took Evie’s map from the front seat and shuffled through the bits and pieces in the back.

  ‘I expect you’d like a bath and one for Oxley too.’

  Oxley shot a wall-eyed look at Olivia and slinked off, tail between his legs. ‘I’ll get Peg to do it. She’s tougher than I am.’ Olivia walked around the car, ran her hands over the scratches and dents in the paintwork and caught sight of the bundle of broken metal and timber on the back seat. ‘It looks as though you have rather a lot to tell me. First of all, a cup of tea and a bath. Come along.’

  Each step Lettie took towards the house underscored her exhaustion, her aching muscles, the throbbing in her head and the strange sense of dislocation. The small stone house surrounded by lavender bushes and waving grass beckoned, more like home than the terrace in Macquarie Street.

  ‘Sit yourself down.’ Olivia held out the chair and Lettie sank down with a sigh. ‘Stay right there. A cup of tea and while you drink it I’ll bring the bath in here. It’s nice and warm.’

  She closed her eyes and rested her head on her arms, the tension in her shoulders eased and her eyelids drooped. Olivia banged and clattered around and kept up a constant stream of conversation. Some addressed to her, other sentences snapped at Oxley as he sat close to the range, the warm air intensifying his disgusting stench.

  A cup of tea appeared in front of her, a plate of oatmeal biscuits, and by the time she’d drunk the tea Olivia had a hip bath in front of the range as good as hidden from sight by the clouds of lavender-scented steam.

  Wrapped in one of Peg’s enormous homespun jumpers and wearing another pair of patched moleskins, Lettie sat toasting her feet in front of the stove. The smell of roast chicken wafted around the kitchen and a very damp and somewhat bedraggled Oxley lay at her feet. Olivia fiddled around brushing her hair, patting her now and again on the shoulder, her mouth puckering, then opening but no words issued forth. Lettie knew she would have to recount the story of the last few days and worse, tell Olivia that she, like everyone else had found no trace of Evie. It had been nothing more than a wild, and somewhat dangerous, goose chase.

  Finally Olivia plonked down in the chair and drew in a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t wait a moment longer. I know you’re exhausted but tell me. What did you discover?’

  Where to start? Perhaps this was one of those occasions where the beginning wasn’t the correct place. She reached over for Olivia’s hand. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve very little to tell. In fact nothing.’

  ‘Nothing,’ growled Peg from the other side of the kitchen. ‘You were gone for days and you’ve nothing to show for it. Start at the beginning.’

  ‘Gently, Peg. The poor girl i
s worn out.’ Olivia squeezed her hand tightly, belying her comment.

  She drew in a deep breath. ‘I drove to Maitland. You were right, there was no property. A family by the name of Hume lived in Largs, years ago. The rest of the family have left the area. I found two gravestones, Hannah and David Hume. They apparently had a store in Maitland for many years and bought a small property in Largs when they sold the business.’

  ‘And it was the property Evie had marked on the map.’

  ‘Yes. No one remembered Evie, only Mr and Mrs Hume. A woman I met mentioned the fact they had a son who had grown up at Dartbrook—Andrew. I thought perhaps he was the same Andrew mentioned in Evie’s notes. I decided to go to Dartbrook and see if I could find out anything about him. That’s when I ran off the road and damaged the car. Fortunately Nathaniel came to my rescue and he took me back to Frog Hollow.’

  ‘Denman’s place.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Nathaniel had business in Sydney.’

  ‘To put his bid down on the property up there he’s got his eye on.’

  Lettie nodded, the warmth of the room and the effort of speaking draining her. She covered her mouth and yawned. ‘Denman and I pulled the car out but it took longer than we expected. I didn’t leave until this morning.’

  ‘And what about these Humes?’ Peg thumped some plates down on the table.

  ‘They were very old when they died, he was eighty-four and she was seventy-eight.’

  ‘Not that old,’ Olivia mumbled under her breath.

  Peg nodded her agreement. ‘Three score years and ten plus a bit. It’s a good age.’

  ‘Enough of that. What has this Andrew Hume got to do with anything?’ Olivia asked.

  ‘Well nothing very much. All I found out was that he had lived at Dartbrook as a child and he had visited, to see his old nursemaid Ginny, but she’d since died and the Hall family have moved on. Maybe Evie went looking for Ginny. I can’t imagine why though. Andrew never lived in Maitland. He and his parents didn’t get on. Ashamed by his arrest. He was a bushranger.’ Lettie’s eyes grew heavier and Olivia’s hold on her hand tightened.

  ‘Denman came with me, when I went up to Dartbrook. The place was deserted. Just this one woman living there. The main house was boarded up. She seemed to be living in the kitchen out at the back. I made the mistake of saying Denman was with me. He was waiting out at the car. She said some very unpleasant things about him and his brother Bailey.’

  Olivia’s forehead wrinkled into a frown then she turned her gaze to the fire, blinking and chewing her lip.

  ‘The woman knew nothing about Evie. No help at all but I don’t think she was hiding anything. The only link to Evie’s map was the name Hume outside Maitland. Hume died in the desert in 1874, which we found in Evie’s notes so she knew that before she left.’ She let out a sigh, the warmth of the fire and her tiredness making it impossible to concentrate. ‘And then I came back.’

  ‘Well that’s all of a fuss about nothing and now you’ve got a broken motor for your trouble.’

  ‘Peg!’ Olivia glared, patting Lettie’s hand in sympathy.

  ‘You know what I think. What everyone thinks. Evie never left the area, never made it to Glendon, never mind Maitland, no matter what she might have drawn on that map of hers—Lettie might as well be chasing elephants. It’s time you gave this away, Olly. It’s doing you no good, and no one else.’ She nodded her head in Lettie’s direction. ‘This chicken’s ready.’

  They ate in silence, each woman wrapped in her own thoughts. Lettie’s eyelids kept closing and her whole body felt as heavy as her heart. She’d set out full of such hopes and expectations, intent on solving the mystery of Evie’s disappearance, not only for Olivia but for herself as well. She’d become ensnared by the story and despite Peg’s insistence she couldn’t believe Evie had been taken by the rock.

  Was there any point in continuing? This wasn’t the reason she’d come to Yellow Rock. Olivia had lived with Evie’s disappearance for thirty years. She’d tried but there was little more she could do. Perhaps now was the time to leave; she’d done nothing but bring bad news and stir up troublesome memories. Yet she couldn’t articulate the words, to give up.

  She pulled herself to her feet, reluctant to leave the comfort and security of the kitchen. ‘I’m sorry, so very, very sorry. I wanted to find her for you, to make everything right.’

  ‘You have done more for me than you can imagine,’ Olivia said. ‘You’ve brought Evie back to me. Your every movement reminds me of her, the way you hold your pencil, the way you brush your hair from your face and squint up at the sun. That little frown between your eyebrows when you are concentrating. I want you to stay. Stay here where you belong. Are you happy to be here?’

  At this very moment she was, not happy with herself and her failure to find out what happened to Evie but happy to be back home at Yellow Rock. ‘I am. More settled than I was in Sydney. I can’t be what Miriam wants me to be. I needed saving, from myself and from the dark place I’d inhabited since Thorne’s death.’

  Olivia’s hand rested on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. And in that moment Lettie understood, understood that both she and Olivia carried the same pain. A pain that would never go away, should never go away. Because love and loss hurt. She couldn’t give up now, she owed it to Olivia, to help her at least find closure.

  ‘I’m not ready to give up. I’m convinced there’s something I’ve missed. I’m going to go back over the map and the notebooks in the study, starting tomorrow.’ She had to solve the mystery. It was the only way to be free of its stranglehold. Evie would have returned if she could. She loved Yellow Rock and Olivia. The only person she loved more was her father. The clue to Evie’s disappearance lay in William’s obsession with Leichhardt. ‘Andrew Hume is the person who connects everything.’

  Twenty-Three

  It was close to midnight when Nathaniel arrived at Yellow Rock. Under the full moon the sight of Lettie’s car beneath the angophora took some of the weight off his shoulders. Denman would have towed it out right enough but he knew nothing about engines. Not that Nathaniel did either. He’d like to hear how they managed, quite a story no doubt. Quite a girl too and obviously knew her motor car. His lips twitched, the memory of their first meeting crystal clear, and his mood lightened. There’d be another property, maybe not the one he’d set his heart on but it wasn’t the end.

  He swung the gate wide and led the stallion he’d picked up at Randwick into the mating paddock. He’d be happy enough there until morning and Olivia always ensured the water troughs were full. No other way she could run the place single-handed unless she had a strict set of rules. Her rules. And there were plenty of those. None he wished to get tied up in tonight. He’d bunk down in the stables with Raven and in the morning stick his head in before he headed back to deliver the bad news to Denman.

  As sure as shit he didn’t want to. There was no way to soften the blow. Outbid. Simple as that. It hadn’t occurred to him, or Denman for that matter, that anyone else would be interested in the lot they had their eye on.

  Nothing he could do. He’d made it to Sydney with time to spare, thought it was a done deal, just hadn’t realised how much the land was worth.

  He rolled out his swag and threw it down on a pile of hay, a darn sight more comfortable than the last couple of nights at Randwick with the constant hullabaloo. Nothing at Yellow Rock but velvet sky and pinprick stars and the sweet smell of hay.

  No lights on in the farmhouse. Olivia’d be fast asleep and Lettie—better he didn’t dwell too much on Lettie. She’d been taking up far too much room in his head. Way out of his league though he couldn’t shake the feel of her body pressed against him and the sweet scent of her hair as they’d come careering down the mountain. Probably not the gentlemanly thing to do. He could have walked, led the horse. He stretched his arms over his head and stomped outside. One single lamp flickered somewhere in the main house, one of the downstairs rooms, maybe Olivia hadn’t
turned in, maybe Lettie …

  A soft growl turned to a yap of pleasure and Oxley threw himself through the darkness, paws landing on his shoulders good as knocking him for six. ‘Woohoo! Down boy, down.’ A great wet rubbery tongue lathered his cheek before the quivering bundle subsided at his feet. ‘What are you doing out here at this time of night? Thought you got the kitchen floor.’

  ‘He does, that way I know when there’s trespassers.’ Olivia’s swaddled form came into view, shotgun propped under her arm and some sort of blanket thrown across her shoulders covering her nightclothes. ‘Be manners to let me know you’d arrived.’

  ‘Didn’t want to wake you.’

  ‘Oxley took care of that. Where’s the stallion?’

  ‘In the breeding paddock. Safe and sound. Good-looking horse.’

  ‘Hope so. I’m planning on filling the paddocks with his progeny next year.’ She unhooked the lamp from the wall and the rasp of a Congreve match and the smell of sulphur hit before the wick spluttered to life, bathing her in a pool of yellow light.

  He raked his hand through his hair. ‘Been a long day. Thought I’d bed down here.’ He gestured to his swag laid out over the straw. ‘That okay with you?’

  ‘You know it is.’ She frowned and moved a bit closer. ‘What’s the matter with you? You look as though you’ve lost a quid and found sixpence.’

  He spluttered out something that might, if he was lucky, pass for a laugh. It didn’t fool Olivia. She brought the lamp closer. ‘What’s the matter? Everything okay? Denman?’

  ‘He’s fine, least he was when I left him. Did Lettie get back all right? Saw her car under the angophora.’

  ‘She did. I owe you thanks for that. She told me what you did. I suppose I should be addressing you as Nathaniel Poole, Esquire.’