The Girl From Eureka

by Cheryl Adnams

  Sexual activity in the camp was rampant. Entertainment was light on, but you’d think the men were competing to see how often they could get their wives to have sex with them, or to see how many babies they could make. Indy would lie there listening to the animalistic groans and grunts from the tents around her. It was agony most nights, but occasionally an ache would grow low in Indy’s belly and she’d wonder what it would be like to have a man she loved hold her close. To kiss her and touch her in such intimate ways as to make her moan and, as her neighbours often did, scream out in ecstasy.

  Indy had fashioned some earmuffs made of rolled up calico that she held to her ears with a strap. It helped in the winter to keep her ears warm but it also kept the constant ruckus of camp life from keeping her awake all night.

  But it was the arguments between husband and wife that were the hardest to take. Occasionally, someone from another tent would shout out at them to keep it down, but no one moved to intervene or help the woman.

  The next morning Indy woke to hear the couple still arguing. The man’s words were slurred as he yelled at her to get his breakfast ready, to stop the kids from crying. It was obvious he had been up all night drinking.

  Indy was exhausted, the lack of sleep making her irritable. When she joined Annie and Sean outside the tent they all exchanged tired, knowing glances. None of them had slept particularly well.

  Taking the cup of tea from Annie, she glanced across at the tent where the man was now grabbing his wife by the arm.

  ‘I told you to shut those bloody kids up,’ he yelled. ‘I’ve got an aching head and I don’t want no lip from you and no cryin’ from them bleeders.’

  The woman tried to answer him in a quiet tone and he lifted his arm and slapped her so hard she went flying across a log and into the dirt.

  ‘Right,’ Indy said putting her cup down.

  ‘Indy, don’t,’ Annie warned.

  Ignoring Annie, Indy stormed across to the nearby tent and helped the woman to her feet.

  ‘Get the hell away from her,’ the man boomed at Indy.

  ‘Go sleep it off, you drunken eejit,’ Indy tossed back at him as she moved to help the woman to sit down. She appeared dazed and her cheek was red but that was nothing compared to the split lip and bruised jaw.

  Indy felt the vice-like grip of the man as he grabbed her by the arm.

  ‘Stay out of my family business.’

  ‘Get your meat hooks off me,’ Indy said pulling away. ‘You have no right to beat your wife, just because she is your wife.’

  ‘Law says otherwise. Now bugger off before I give you what I am about to give her,’ he said, grabbing his crotch lewdly.

  Indy barked out a contemptuous laugh. ‘Please! You’re so drunk there is no way you’re getting that thing up enough to do anything to anyone.’

  She turned again to the woman, so missed the backhanded slap that caught the side of her face. The pain shot up her cheek and her eye watered madly where he’d struck her. Losing her balance, she staggered and fell to her knees. Crawling back to get away from him, she saw the feet of the man as he headed towards her. She braced for the kick, but before he could land one, she saw him stumble backwards and land on his behind clutching his crotch again.

  Confused, Indy raised her head to see the man’s wife standing over him with a frying pan in her hand. She had evidently used it to whack him in the scrotum.

  Struggling to her feet with the help of Sean, who was suddenly now beside her, Indy looked down at the man. Agony was stamped across his pale features as he huffed and panted, trying to regain his breath.

  Indy smiled through the pain in her cheek and nodded at the woman. ‘Do that every time he goes to hit you and you’ll be just fine.’

  Gingerly wiping her weeping eye, she went to finish her breakfast with Sean and Annie, feeling considerably better than when she woke up, despite her throbbing face. Annie just shook her head as Indy returned and, without taking much care, she grabbed Indy’s face between her hands and surveyed the damage.

  ‘Will you never learn to mind your own?’ Despite the harsh reprimand in Annie’s tone, Indy heard the pride beneath it. ‘Sean, get me a washcloth.’

  ‘We’ve got no water.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Indy said, and removing herself from Annie’s hands, she picked up the canvas bags they used to collect water from the spring upstream.

  ‘Don’t be foolish, girl. Sean will go.’

  ‘Nope, I’m fine,’ Indy insisted. Truthfully, she needed to slink away alone and cry for a moment at the pain. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

  ***

  Indy examined her face mirrored in the clear flowing waters of the spring. A mighty bruise was flaring and she winced as she pressed at the darkening purple skin. Her tiredness had made her rash. She should never have interfered. But at least the wife had learned to stand up for herself. If that continued, it was worth the shiner she’d sport for a week.

  ‘Miss Wallace?’

  Startled, she lifted her gaze from the water, relaxing again as she spotted Lieutenant Marsh on his horse appear from the trees. She really must be tired if she’d allowed him to sneak up on her.

  ‘I heard about this place,’ he said as he dismounted and began walking towards her with his own water container. ‘It has the only fresh water nearby, I believe. The water in the river closer to town is unsanitary and not for human consumption. Though people still drink it I noticed. You learn quickly after your first bout of dysentery. The government camp has started getting its water transp—’

  He stopped dead in his tracks and dropping the container rushed forward, leapt easily over the narrow section of the spring and had her face in his big hands in seconds, concern etched on his handsome features. ‘What happened?’

  She tried to turn her head away but he held firm. ‘I’m fine,’ she said, trying to push him back. ‘Don’t fuss.’

  ‘I’m not fussing. Women fuss.’

  It was hard not to smile at the insult in his voice. He had a good hold on her and she gave up the struggle and let him examine her. While he did, she took the opportunity to examine him as well. His lips were quite full for a man; his cheekbones high and striking. Her hand itched to reach out and brush at the long lock of pale hair that had fallen across his forehead. His long fingers stroking lightly against her aching cheek sent delicious shivers across her skin. She inhaled his masculine scent and nearly closed her eyes, revelling in his tender touch.

  ‘Who did this to you?’

  He was completely oblivious to how his touch was affecting her it seemed. She breathed in and out slowly, desperately trying to ignore her body’s unwanted reaction.

  ‘A man was beating his wife in camp. I talked him out of it.’

  ‘You … talked him out of it?’ A look of realisation crossed his features. ‘You mean you stepped in between them as he was hitting his wife?’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t going to stand there and do nothing,’ Indy fired angrily. ‘Just because there is no law against a man smacking his wife around, doesn’t mean people should stand by and let it happen.’

  The slow smile of admiration changed his face completely.

  ‘What are you grinning at?’

  ‘You’d try and save the world given half a chance, I’d wager.’

  ‘Someone has to,’ she tossed back, embarrassed at his obvious respect.

  Will’s eyes darkened as they met hers and held. The thumb of his right hand caressed the corner of her mouth and her heart jackknifed in her chest.

  A bird let out a mournful cry atop a nearby gum tree. Coming to her senses, Indy stepped back forcing Will’s hand to drop to his side.

  ‘It’s fine. I’m fine,’ she said, fumbling around for her intelligence. ‘Hurts like a horse kicked me, but I’ll live.’

  ‘Sshh.’

  She frowned up him. ‘Don’t shush me.’

  Will rolled his eyes and took her roughly by the shoulders. Her breath caught and her heart slammed against he
r ribs. He was going to kiss her. He was just going to grab her and pull her to him and kiss her. She should have been annoyed, or at the least concerned, but surprisingly she felt thrilled at the move. Until he spun her around and away from him.

  ‘Look,’ he whispered and pointed over her shoulder to where a kangaroo stood tall and proud and completely unperturbed by their presence.

  Feeling like a fool, Indy shut her eyes and exhaled the breath she’d been holding. What an idiot she was. He’d had no intention of kissing her. The level of her regret astounded her and she did her best to shake it off.

  ‘Stupid,’ she murmured, forcing herself to step out of his grip and put some distance between them.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘He’s stupid,’ Indy said, pretending she was talking about the kangaroo instead of herself. ‘Too trusting. It’s a rarity to see them here now.’

  ‘It’s my first kangaroo.’

  He had such a goofy, reverent grin on his face she couldn’t help but smile too as they watched the big grey lean down to nibble some grass.

  ‘Most of them took off when the forest began to disappear. Either that or they were killed for their meat and fur.’

  ‘Killed? Who would kill such a majestic creature?’

  ‘Hungry men and women.’

  ‘People eat kangaroo meat?’

  Indy shrugged. ‘It’s on the menu in most places in Ballarat.’

  ‘I’m surprised I’ve not tried it then.’

  ‘Who says you haven’t? God knows what meat they feed you up at the government camp.’

  The kangaroo took off, bounding away into the safety of the trees, frightened by something. Will pulled her protectively behind him as an aboriginal man appeared from the trees.

  Indy shoved Will aside. ‘Don’t be silly. It’s just Whitey. He went to get medicine for my eye.’

  ‘He’s a doctor?’

  ‘He’s Wathaurung tribe. They use native remedies. And they work.’

  ‘Interesting outfit for a native.’

  Whitey was dressed in trousers and a white shirt with a tan vest over the top but his feet were bare.

  She chuckled. ‘He struck gold early, before the rush. He says he likes the clothes, but despises wearing shoes.’

  She waved Whitey closer, and with his dark eyes still cautiously fixed on Will, he stepped up to Indy. Without a word, he dipped his fingers into the shallow bowl made from the bark of a tree, and taking a handful of the rough medicine, he wiped it carefully on her eye.

  ‘God, that stinks.’ Will said, holding his hand over his nose.

  ‘Aye, but it works,’ Indy agreed, blinking against the sting and the smell.

  ‘What’s in it?’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’

  ‘You should see a real doctor.’

  ‘Ha! One of those quacks down there who say they are a doctor, though no one has ever seen their certifications? No thanks. I’ll take my chances on Whitey’s smelly medicine over leeches and bloodletting.’

  ‘You’ve done this before?’

  She gave him a sideways look. ‘I seem to get injured a lot.’

  ‘Meaning you get into fights a lot.’

  ‘Maybe I’m just clumsy.’

  The look on his face said he didn’t believe that for a minute.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be getting back to the government camp?’ She looked pointedly across at the discarded water containers.

  He followed her glance. ‘Yes, I suppose I should.’

  But his eyes tracked to Whitey again and she read the concern in them.

  ‘Don’t worry about Whitey. He’s a friend. He checks in on my mother now and again. She lives in a cottage not far from here and …’ There went her mouth again. Lord, what was it about this man that had her so eager to tell him everything? She decided to change the subject. ‘I heard what you did for Father Smythe.’

  He stared blankly at her.

  ‘Helping him to see his man, Gregorius, in the government jail,’ she continued.

  ‘It was nothing,’ he said, his usual confidence now replaced with embarrassment.

  ‘To Father Smythe it was everything,’ she said, allowing admiration into her voice. ‘And would, no doubt, have cost you dearly had you been caught.’

  ‘I understand the fine has been paid and the boy has now been released into the good priest’s care,’ Will said with an easy shrug. ‘So all’s well that ends well, yes?’

  But Indy refused to be distracted by his attempts to deflect her praise. ‘It was a nice thing you did. I thought I had you all worked out, Lieutenant. Now I’m not so sure.’

  He sighed heavily and met her eyes again. ‘Then we are equal in our confusion, for I cannot seem to figure you out either.’

  ‘Really? I thought I was easy.’ She gave a delighted chuckle. ‘Outspoken troublemaker and general pain in the arse is most people’s opinion.’

  He laughed too. ‘True enough. But that’s not all there is of you, deep down.’

  An awkward silence fell between them.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me yesterday about Father Smythe?’

  ‘It slipped my mind,’ he answered with a knowing smile. ‘I was otherwise distracted by your lack of attire by the river. A priest, Miss Wallace, was the farthest thing from my mind.’

  Indy stared at him for a moment, surprised by his uncommonly flirtatious speech.

  The unexpected intimate moment had Indy remembering Whitey was still standing by. He had been quiet throughout the exchange, but as she crossed glances with him, she thought she saw a small mischievous smile touch his lips.

  ***

  Will remembered the native man about the same time Indy did. He hadn’t meant to be so forward with her. But he’d thought about that moment at the river so many times over the last twenty-four hours, it was etched indelibly into his brain. Shaking off the lingering memories, he steered conversation back to the safe.

  ‘Why do you not live with her? Your mother I mean.’

  ‘I prefer to be on the goldfields. I am a miner after all.’

  ‘It’s an unusual occupation for a woman.’

  Will realised his mistake the minute he’d said it. But if he hadn’t, the fire that sparked in Indy’s good eye would have confirmed his blunder. Rather than get into another exhaustive argument with the enigmatic Indigo Wallace, he chose to retreat and live to fight another day.

  ‘I apologise, Miss Wallace,’ he said, raising his hands in surrender. ‘You’re right. I ought to be returning to the camp. They will wonder what became of me. Good day.’

  He stepped over to the spring, and collecting his water containers, he filled them quickly. All the while aware of Miss Wallace and her native friend watching him.

  Strapping the water containers to his horse, he mounted agilely.

  ‘Take care of that eye,’ he called out. ‘And try to duck when the next fist comes at you.’

  ‘Thanks, that’s useful. I’ll try to remember that,’ she tossed back, rolling her eyes.

  He winked, dipped his chin in farewell and turned his horse down the path to the government camp.

  As he moved along the narrow trail, from his vantage point high on his horse, he was able to see over the scrub and down the hill towards the goldfields. A bugle call came and he watched yet another licence hunt cause chaos in the diggings. The traps were starting early today. This time it was the miners of the Canadian Field who were being subjected to the raid. Six hunts a week. Sometimes two in the same day. The Commissioner was really taking a hard line with the miners. The increase in raids was a tactic to try to settle and control the unrest in the mining community. Will had the feeling it was having the opposite effect.

  And since the death of that Scobie fellow, the agitation of the miners had become more acute. He passed a sign posted on a notice board along the road nearest the Eureka diggings. It invited all who believed in justice to a public assembly in opposition to the recent trial, and subsequent acquittal, of Ben
tley, Hance and Farrell.

  Trial? Even Will had to admit the whole thing had been a bit of a farce. Despite the severe lack of evidence, it was generally accepted, and plainly obvious even to him, that Mr Bentley and his friends had been responsible for the murder of James Scobie. But Magistrate D’Ewes was rumoured to be a friend, and financially in league with Bentley. The cross examination of all witnesses against Bentley had been tantamount to victimisation.

  If Rede thought he was going to repress the miners with licence hunts and unfair trials, Will believed the Commissioner was going to be sorely mistaken.

  ***

  A few days later Will found himself out riding on patrol around Ballarat with the Commissioner. Will knew Rede to be an intelligent and generally fair man, so he decided to try and talk with him about his concerns. The man was not, after all, his superior officer. The military, police and Commissioner’s office all ran independently, with Hotham governing them all from the comfort and safety of Melbourne. Will had begun to believe it was this separation, and lack of regional leadership, that was causing issues in the government camp, and by extension Ballarat. Without order within their own ranks, how could control be implemented across the goldfields?

  ‘Sir, have you seen how the licence raids are carried out?’ Will broached the subject as they rode at a leisurely pace through the Golden Points campsite.

  ‘Not firsthand,’ Rede responded. ‘But I believe them to be adequate.’

  ‘The police are a little fanatical in their duties.’ Will knew he had to tread carefully. He was not a whistleblower, nor did he wish to cause further friction in the already problematic relationship between Commissioner Rede and Police Inspector Evans.

  ‘Fanatical? In what way?’

  He seemed genuinely interested, so Will pressed on. ‘The violence with which the arrests are carried out, sir. The men who are unlicensed are assaulted with a heavy hand before they are dragged away, tied to horses.’

  ‘If the miners did not run from the police, they would have no cause to be assaulted, correct?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Will acquiesced reluctantly. ‘But perhaps the aggrieved miners would not be so unreasonable should they know they were not going to receive a beating when arrested. I have also heard stories of the troopers demanding sex from the wives of miners in order to secure their release. Or if they find the wives alone in camp, they simply force themselves upon them. The troopers are sometimes quite drunk when they carry out the raids.’