Joseph chuckled and kissed the top of Millie’s head. No matter how bad things looked she could always make him laugh.
“When this house is finished we will have some grand parties, Millie.”
“We don’t need a fancy house.”
His gaze went back to the partly built stone walls. “We won’t be getting one any time soon.”
They began walking down the slope towards his parents’ house. Little puffs of dust rose with every step. “I might still have to go and find work elsewhere.”
“Your father doesn’t want you to.”
“I know but we’ve little income. This heat has shrivelled up any chance of feed. Even the rabbit numbers are dwindling. We’ve sent some breeding stock down to my uncles at Penakie but even there the land can’t sustain too much stock and what we’ve got left here won’t survive much longer unless it rains. We need money coming in.”
“But what would you do? Many people are the same as us, they will be looking for extra work.”
“Word is that gold is being found at Teetulpa.”
Millie stopped suddenly and turned to face him. One hand clutched the apron that held the precious eggs and the other went to her furrowed brow, shading her eyes from the late-afternoon sun. “You wouldn’t go there? It’s so far away.”
“Not that far. There could be all kinds of opportunities. It’s close to the stock route to New South Wales and on the route they’re building the railway from Peterborough to Cockburn. Yunta will service the railway. There’re plenty of work opportunities. But I’d rather try for gold.” He put two hands on her shoulders. “If I could find some gold we wouldn’t have to worry about supplies so much and there is so much more we could do here.”
“People have died there.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“I read it in the paper your father brought home from Port Augusta.”
Joseph had also read the report keenly. On his last trip to Hawker before Christmas, the town had been buzzing with talk and several parties had already gone to the new field. “Well then, you’ll know it wasn’t the mining that killed them.”
“No, typhus from the lack of clean water.”
“I can look after myself, Millie. And I have you and the children to think of.”
“We don’t need more, Joseph.” She slipped away from him and kept walking, her back ramrod straight. “And so far we haven’t gone without food or clothing. The children are happy—”
“It’s all right.” He caught up to her at the back door. The verandah roof gave instant relief from the heat of the sun. “I’m just thinking about it.”
“Don’t wish for things that aren’t important, Joseph.” She lifted her head and brushed a kiss across his lips. “All we need is to be all together, as a family.”
Jack noticed the difference almost immediately he passed through the gate in the fence between Smith’s Ridge and Wildu Creek. Unlike his, this country was dotted with bluebush and saltbush and a variety of other hardy plants. They were sparse and small and stripped at ground level at first, no doubt from rabbits, and their tops and sides well chewed by sheep and kangaroos, but the further he rode the more there were. By comparison, Smith’s Ridge had little vegetation in the low country. Brand was camped up in the hills with the remains of Henry’s stock, where there were still small pockets of permanent water and some vegetation. This kind of flora, sparse as it was, would enable sheep to be kept in small numbers.
Jack was making this journey in the middle of summer because he was bored with his own company. Donovan and his wife had gone off somewhere to see family for a few weeks which left Jack alone at the house. He’d kept himself busy fixing yards, patching a broken window and doing any odd jobs he could find out of the heat but he was fed up with being on his own.
He’d been planning a trip to Hawker when a traveller had come through trying to sell a rough collection of pots and pans. The man had said he was going on to Wildu Creek. Jack hadn’t bought anything but had given the pathetic fellow some flour, tea and sugar in return for delivering his message to Wildu Creek. At last he was taking up Mrs Baker’s kind offer of hospitality. He had little to offer as a thank you but he had managed to shoot two rabbits last evening. He’d cleaned them and wrapped them in damp linen cloths inside a hessian bag. He hoped they, along with a packet of the special tea Henry imported, would be some kind of acceptable thank-you gift.
Jack had started out from Smith’s Ridge at first light, resting for a short time in the middle of the day before continuing his journey. By mid-afternoon he noticed a smoke smudge in the distance, slightly darker than the dust, and assumed it signalled he was close to the homestead. He left the slopes and pointed his horse towards the large trees that followed the creek.
His first glimpse of Wildu Creek homestead made him bring his horse to a halt. It was a little settlement all of its own. There were considerable buildings: a wooden hut and a stone house close to the creek with yards and tanks and some small stone buildings nearby. Through the trees further up the hill, behind the stone house, a much bigger building had been commenced and then, more distant, was a long wooden hut and a shearing shed with sturdy yards surrounding it. The whole place was tidy and well-cared for.
He rode up a well-worn track that took him behind the wooden hut, and along the side of the stone house to the back, where he took in an enclosed yard with fruit trees and the remains of a vegetable garden. Beyond that were another yard and stables made of stone and wood. Further on, he could see a yard with two cows and chickens scratching in the dirt beside a low wooden structure. Wildu Creek was certainly far more substantial than Smith’s Ridge although the dust hung in the air just the same.
Jack dismounted and was surprised at a voice from behind him.
“Hello, Mr Aldridge.”
He looked around and was delighted to see Millie Baker coming towards him from the direction of the partly built house. She looked charming in a low-cut dress which hinted at her well-shaped breasts and hugged her narrow waist. A young boy walked beside her, tugging at the collar of his crisp white shirt.
“Mrs Baker.” Jack removed his hat and gave a short bow. He appraised her closely from beneath his lowered lashes. He hadn’t been with a woman since the races and that had been a long time ago. Mrs Donovan was good at keeping house and playing cards but old and not much to look at. His charm didn’t work on her. Jack’s preference was for white flesh but Millie Baker was still a welcome sight. “How lovely to see you again. You are positively the picture of beauty.”
“No doubt you spend a lot of time with little company, Mr Aldridge.” Millie grinned and turned to the boy. “Robert, go in and ask William to come out and see to Mr Aldridge’s horse.”
The boy gave Jack a shy smile and did as she bid.
Millie nodded towards a post near the back fence. “You can tether your horse there. William will take good care of him.”
Jack did as she suggested.
“Please come straight inside, you must be quite exhausted from your ride. January is always hot but this year even more so. There’s some water in the washhouse and a fresh cloth if you’d like to rinse off the dust.”
“Thank you.” He took the bags from his horse and held them out. “Some rabbits and some tea. I hope both will be useful.”
“That’s very kind of you.” Millie took both bags and led him to the back of the house where she showed him where to wash. “Please come inside as soon as you are ready. Everyone is anxious to meet you.”
Jack washed quickly and peered at himself in the small mirror hanging over the basin. He had shaved yesterday and only had a dark shadow around his jaw. Mrs Donovan wasn’t too bad at cutting hair, although his was wet with perspiration. He dragged his fingers through the thick black locks, sweeping them back from his face, then grinned at his reflection.
“You’ll do, Jack.”
The washhouse was part of the long room, made from wooden planks built across the bac
k of the house. He took off his boots and left them beside the line-up at the back door and entered the kitchen. Both Mrs Bakers looked up from their preparations.
“Welcome, Mr Aldridge.” Mrs Baker senior’s smile was animated. “We’re so pleased you could come.” She undid her apron and slid it over her head. “Please come up to our dining room. Everyone else is there.”
Jack cast another long look at Millie before he turned to follow her mother-in-law through the house. He wondered how many she meant by everyone.
Joseph studied the man at the end of his parents’ table. Jack, as he’d stated everyone should call him, even the children, was certainly good at entertaining the ladies. He had Millie, Eliza and even Lizzie hanging on his every word. Timothy and Thomas were also listening to his latest story with amused looks on their faces but Joseph noticed William, who at twelve had been allowed to eat at the table with the adults, was not paying much attention.
Laughter erupted as Jack finished his story about riding a donkey and falling off. He was obviously happy to make fun of himself but he didn’t strike Joseph as the type of man who liked to be laughed at.
The sun was low in the sky outside and the inside light was suddenly dull.
“Time to light the lamps.”
Millie stood. “Help me clear the plates please, William.”
Joseph watched to make sure his son did as she bid. Sometimes of late William thought himself too big to help with household jobs but the boy rose immediately and did as Millie asked. He appeared to have grown taller yet again. The new trousers they had given him for Christmas just over two weeks ago would soon need to be let down if he kept that up.
“I see there’s a substantial new house being built.”
Joseph turned his attention back to Jack.
“Yes, for Millie and me and the children.”
“We’ve tried to talk him out of it.” Lizzie gave her son a benevolent smile. “There’s only Thomas and I in this house now and it would be easier to build an addition.”
“We’re a big family, Mother.” Joseph didn’t want to have this conversation in front of their neighbour. “How do you find the house at Smith’s Ridge, Mr … Jack?”
“More than comfortable. I believe you built that one too?”
“I had the help of some builders but yes, a lot of the work was mine. Clara, my first wife, designed the layout.” Joseph was aware of Millie hesitating beside him before she took the plate he held up. He tried never to mention his dead wife by name in her presence.
“I only have my shepherd, Brand, to share it with.” Jack’s voice filled the break in conversation. “And he’s not there often. The Donovans live in the wooden hut at the back. It’s a big house for only one.” He looked up at Millie who at that moment was clearing his plate and gave her what Joseph could only describe as a meaningful look.
Joseph got to his feet. Jack might be a visitor but he was precariously testing his welcome.
“Perhaps we can go out on the verandah. It might be cooler out there by now.”
“What’s that noise?” William’s face was scrunched up in puzzlement.
Before anyone could answer the floor began to vibrate beneath them. Joseph grabbed at the table. The walls of the house rocked. Millie cried out and there was a deafening crash as the plates she’d collected hit the floor along with the cover of the lamp his mother had been holding. The wick Lizzie had just lit went out and the light from outside dimmed. Screams could be heard from the verandah where the younger children had been playing.
Joseph was torn between trying to reach his wife who was clinging to Jack Aldridge and saving his children. Before any of them could move further the vibrations stopped. The last rays of the setting sun suddenly reappeared and filled the dining room with an orange light highlighting the motes of dust floating in the air.
For a heartbeat there was silence and then the front door banged open and footsteps could be heard in the passage. Mary ushered the frightened children into the dining room. She ran straight to Millie, hysteria in her voice as she spoke in her native language. Millie let go of Jack and opened her arms to Mary who flung herself against Millie’s neck.
“It was an earth tremor.” Thomas’s calming voice spoke over the clamour. “It’s all right children.” He moved to where his wife was trying to re-light the lamp. “Careful of the glass, Lizzie.”
Joseph saw his mother’s confused look before he bent down and wrapped Robert, Violet and Esther in his arms. “You’re safe,” he soothed.
“We’ve had tremors before,” Thomas said. “Nothing to be frightened of.”
“Not as strong as that, Grandpa.” William stood in the middle of the room, his eyes wide. “The house has never shaken like that before.”
Mary babbled something more. Millie wrapped both her arms around her niece. Her gaze met Joseph’s over the children’s heads and his heart gave an extra thud. In all the time he’d known Millie he’d never seen such a look of fear in her eyes.
Thirty-six
Henry held Catherine close. “It’s all right, my dear. It’s passed.” Over her head he looked at the picture hanging at a precarious angle on their sitting-room wall. Above it two dark lines ran jaggedly towards the ceiling, hopefully only minor cracks. Apart from that there appeared to be no damage in this room, at least.
Catherine clung to him, her body trembling.
“Catherine.” He gave her a gentle shake and dragged her arms from his. “It’s over I tell you. We are not harmed. Go and check on Charles. I must go to the shop and make sure everything is all right there.”
“Don’t leave us, Henry.”
He forced her hands to her sides and held them there. “Take hold of yourself, Catherine. It was an earth tremor, nothing more. Look in on Charles. He has no doubt slept through the excitement.”
“Excitement!” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “We have endured this terrible heat and now this most terrifying earthquake. I’ve had enough, Henry. It’s time we sold up and moved back to Adelaide like you told my mother and yours that we would do.”
Henry clenched his teeth and pulled his hands from Catherine’s. She rarely raised her voice but her fear had displaced her manners.
“That is enough! Stop this hysteria at once and look in on Charles. Then you should take a draught of tonic and go to bed. I might be late if there are things to be tidied at the shop.”
He strode to the front door, moved the empty vase that had obviously slid in the quake back to its place on the hall table and let himself out into the hot, still night. Immediately he could hear voices, some raised in panic, others more excited. It appeared many of the residents of Hawker were outside.
He looked towards the cottage where Flora and her children lived. No sign of anyone there but a light shone in the front window. Flora was a sensible woman, but he would look in on her on the way home.
Henry moved as fast as he could in the fading light. On the corner of the main street he passed a group huddled around a woman who was crying hysterically. A man stood to one side, his hands clutched to his chest, declaring the end was nigh over and over again. On closer inspection Henry recognised him as the clerk from the bank, not a previously pious man he’d thought.
Henry gave the group a wide berth and made for his own shop. He went through the back door and called out.
“Mr Hemming, is everything all right here?”
“I’m in the shop, Mr Wiltshire,” came the reply.
Henry walked through the tiny kitchen and into the small room behind the shop that was once again restored to an office for Henry and a living room for Mr Hemming. Now that Hawker had a purpose-built post-and-telegraph office the telegraph had been moved there. It had been a pity to lose the extra business it had brought, especially with the difficult seasons the whole area had been experiencing.
A lamp shone from the shop at the front of the building. Henry had assumed the curtain between the two rooms had been pulled back but as he reached the d
oorway he realised the whole thing had fallen down. He looked up in surprise at the two holes in the plaster above the door where hooks had once been in place. They had supported the wooden rod that suspended the velvet curtain which now lay at his feet.
“Not much damage, Mr Wiltshire.” Hemming was wielding a broom, collecting a small pile of glass. “Two of the sweets jars must have wobbled off the counter, a few things have fallen over, but the only real damage appears to be the crack above the door.”
“Crack?”
Henry lifted the lamp Hemming had set on the counter. What he hadn’t noticed when he’d looked up at the holes was a large crack running down from the ceiling and spreading out over the doorframe.
“That will need to be fixed.”
Henry gritted his teeth. Lately it seemed as if money slipped through his fingers and none of his businesses were making much of a return.
The land he owned at Cradock and Wilson barely brought in enough to cover what he paid the men he employed to manage it. He was plagued at every turn by lack of rain, which meant his crops were poor and his stock had to compete with grasshoppers and rabbits for whatever feed remained. His problems were the same as most of the plains country and people weren’t spending money in his shop like they had.
He looked over Hemming’s head as he bent over the broom. They were carrying less stock and some of the shelves looked bare. Hemming and Catherine did their best to keep the place clean but the infernal dust was everywhere. In the dim light of the lamp the place looked shabby. What had happened to his fine establishment?
There was a sharp knock on the door.
“Wiltshire? Are you in there?”
Henry was surprised to hear Ellis Prosser outside his door. He moved around Hemming and drew back the bolt.
“Ellis. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see how you have fared.” He peered round Henry at the interior of the shop.
Henry stepped quickly outside. “Not too badly, Ellis. Nothing that is not fixable. What brings you to town?”
“I put my wife and daughter on the train today. Georgina will start school in Adelaide when the new school year begins. I am staying the night at the hotel. This quake has caused a ruckus. I was planning to call on you in the morning. Come and have a drink with me now.”
Dust on the Horizon Page 33