Sybil had overheard. “What is it, Mr. Dobson?” she asked, going to the door.
“We just wanted to let you know that your son spoke to us about the current problems, so we’ll be keeping a lookout. Feel free to go about your daily business around the homestead because we have guns handy. He did ask that you not wander too far from the house, however.”
“After what’s been going on, I have no intention of leaving the house,” Sybil said. “I hope he hasn’t gone out alone this morning. Trying to find those who hurt Tom and Max is madness. He should be going into town to fetch the constabulary.” She couldn’t hide her worry. She was also thinking of Tom and William, and poor Martha, who was with child.
“Elias and Father Quinlan went with him, and they’re armed,” Oliver said. In actual fact, Father Quinlan had refused to carry a gun, but he didn’t need to tell Sybil that. “I won’t be doing any carting today, so I’ll patrol the grounds of the house and the other buildings.”
Sybil didn’t feel wholly reassured. “This sort of thing never happened in the city,” she complained, leaving the kitchen.
“Thank you for letting us know, Mr. Dobson, Mr. Hubert,” Abbey said. “I will be going back and forth to the barn today, looking after Max while Mr. Hawker is away.”
“Don’t worry. I have a good view of the barn from the smithy’s shop,” Ben said. “You’ll be quite safe, Miss Scottsdale.”
After they had gone, Abbey left with the dog’s meal, and Sybil busied herself changing Ralph’s bandages. His wounds didn’t look or smell right, and she was worried that they were becoming infected despite her best efforts at keeping them clean.
“It doesn’t look good, does it?” Ralph said, looking closely at his burns.
“No,” Sybil said. “This heat is a breeding ground for infection. Will Dr. Ashbourne be coming back soon?”
“Actually, he’s due today. Whether he gets here or not is another matter,” Ralph said.
***
Out in the barn, Abbey sat down in the straw and offered Max a slice of lamb. He sniffed it, and then ate a tiny bit after she coaxed him, but obviously his usual appetite had deserted him.
“Come on, Max, try to eat some more,” Abbey said gently, offering him another piece of meat. The dog lay his head down and went back to sleep.
Abbey heard the door open, and looked up, hoping to see Jack. Clementine’s blonde head popped around the door.
“Need any help?” she asked, taking Abbey by surprise.
“No, not really,” Abbey said truthfully.
“How about some company, then?” Clementine came in and peered down at Max. “He doesn’t look his usual boisterous self, does he?” she said.
“No,” Abbey sighed. “Normally he has a very healthy appetite, and he’s never satisfied, but he only ate a tiny piece of meat.”
“Perhaps he’s in pain,” Clementine said. “His wound is obviously still bleeding.” The bandage had a dark red stain.
“I was hoping his pain was easing,” Abbey said. “I should change this dressing. Mr. Hawker said if an infection sets in …” She couldn’t finish the sentence and didn’t want to become emotional in front of Clementine.
“Let’s change the dressing now then,” Clementine said, much to Abbey’s amazement. She couldn’t help but recall what Heath had said about her not being the type of woman to feed chickens or get her hands dirty.
“I can do it,” Abbey said, thinking that perhaps Clementine was only being polite.
“I don’t mind helping,” Clementine said. “I’ve got nothing else to do. Mrs. Hawker is doing my father’s dressings. Have you a clean bandage?”
“Yes,” Abbey said, retrieving it from the pocket in her skirt. “Actually, it’s one that the doctor left for your father. I’ll have to wash the one I remove for next time.”
“While you remove that one,” Clementine said, “I’ll fetch a bowl of warm, salty water to wash the wound.” She left the barn.
Abbey took the bloodied bandage off Max’s leg. By the time she’d gently and slowly unravelled it, and inspected the wound, Clementine was back with the bowl of water.
“Oh, dear. That looks awful,” Clementine said, gazing at the wound with a frown on her face. The injury had gone sticky and off-color.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Abbey said, also scowling. She wanted to cry, but she held back.
The barn-door opened again. “How is Max doing?” Doris Hubert asked. “Oliver told me he’s been hurt.” With so many workers gone, she had little to do. She had been tutoring the Finch children, but now that Kenny had taken his family to the Queensland gold fields, there were no more pupils.
“His wound doesn’t look too good,” Abbey admitted.
Doris peered over Clementine’s shoulder. “No, it doesn’t. You clean it, and I’ll get some ointment that might help,” she said and headed back to the store.
While Abbey gently washed Max’s wound, Clementine watched.
“How was your trip to Martindale yesterday?” she casually asked Abbey.
Abbey wasn’t surprised by the enquiry and suddenly wondered if finding out what had happened at the Martindale estate had been Clementine’s motive for offering to help with the dog. “Fine,” she said. “I think Mr. Mason is now in a much better frame of mind.”
“Good,” Clementine said. “Your presence must have been comforting.”
Her words were left hanging in the air when Abbey made no comment. She didn’t want to start a discussion about Heath.
Not to be put off, Clementine persisted. “Will you be seeing him again?”
“I don’t know,” Abbey said evasively. She hoped Clementine would take the hint that she didn’t want to discuss him.
“Did you really think he could have jumped from the roof?” Clementine went on, remembering Abbey’s remark to Dr. Ashbourne.
“Well, I was up there with him on the day of his father’s funeral, and he looked over the edge to the ground below with a rather peculiar expression on his face. I didn’t think too much of it at the time”
Clementine couldn’t hide her curiosity. “What were you doing on the roof with him?”
“He was showing me the view,” Abbey said. She had no intention of telling Clementine anything that was said between Heath and herself.
“Did he seem upset?” Clementine probed.
Abbey was starting to think Clementine was like a dog with a bone. “His father had just been buried, so his mood seemed justified.”
“I don’t think you should spend time with him, Abbey,” Clementine said. “He’s too worldly for someone with your innocence.”
“Why do you care, Clementine?” Abbey asked directly. “We’re practically strangers.” She didn’t believe that Clementine still cared for Heath after courting Jack for almost a year.
“I know we’ve just met, but I still don’t want to see you get hurt,” Clementine said softly.
Abbey could almost believe that Clementine sounded sincere.
“We’re both women, and we should look out for each other,” Clementine added. “Besides, one day Jack and I will be married, and I’ll be living here. If you are still Sybil’s companion, we’ll be spending quite a bit of time together, almost like sisters.” Clementine was looking around the barn as she spoke, so she didn’t see the astonishment and guilt on Abbey’s face, as she remembered the kiss she and Jack had shared.
“Has Mr. Hawker proposed?” Abbey could barely get the words out.
“He hasn’t yet gone down on one knee, but we’ve spoken of the future, our future together.”
“I see,” Abbey said, her heart plummeting.
Just then Doris came back with a small jar. “Put this ointment on the dog’s wound, Miss Scottsdale. I’ve always found it to be good with infections.”
“Would it help with my father’s burns?” Cleme
ntine asked hopefully.
“I don’t think so,” Doris said. “It’s best for rashes and cuts, as far as I know.”
“Then I hope Dr. Ashbourne comes back today,” Clementine said. “My father’s burns look like they are becoming infected.”
“Ask Ernie’s advice about that,” Doris said.
“Ernie … the Aboriginal man?” Clementine asked, astonished.
“Yes, he knows quite a bit about bush remedies.”
Clementine’s face hardened. “You don’t expect me to believe that he could cure my father’s burns with something from the bush, do you?” she said haughtily.
“You ask Ben Dobson about it,” Doris said defensively. “He once had a terrible burn from the forge fire, and Ernie soon fixed him up.”
Disdainfully shaking her head, Clementine left the barn. Doris glanced at Abbey and pursed her lips in anger. After she helped Abbey dress the dog’s wound, she went back to her store, leaving Abbey alone with Max.
CHAPTER 20
It was stiflingly hot in the barn, so Abbey threw the doors wide open. A hot wind stirred dust willie-willies on the road, but moving air, no matter how hot, was better than no air at all.
Abbey had been sitting with Max for quite some time when he awkwardly got up and cautiously made his way to the open doorway, wobbling as he kept his wounded leg off the ground. She wasn’t sure what to do, so Abbey followed him outside. On three legs, Max went to the nearest bush, alongside the barn, and clumsily peed on it. It was a simple, natural thing to do, but Abbey saw it as a hopeful sign that he would recover. He then came back to the barn, had a drink of water, and flopped down again on the blankets. It appeared that the short trip outside had sapped what little strength he had.
“Oh, Max,” Abbey said, her emotions tumultuous. “You are going to be all right, aren’t you?” She stroked the dog’s head, wishing she could share the news with Jack. She offered Max more meat, but he ate just a little again, dashing her fresh hopes.
Abbey sat with Max for another hour, just to make sure he was all right. She then decided to see what Sybil and the others were doing. As she walked towards the house, she noticed the smithy and his son gazing off into the distance with concerned expressions on their faces. They didn’t even acknowledge her. At the same time, she caught a whiff of smoke in the air.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Dobson?” Abbey asked the smithy. She sensed danger, and her heart began to race. “Is that smoke in the air?” She hoped it was from the cooking fire in the big house.
“Yes, it is,” Ben said, but he wasn’t looking in the direction of the house. He pointed into the distance where a smoky haze hung over the tops of some gum trees on a hill. “Saddle two horses, Michael,” he said urgently to his son.
“What are you going to do?” Abbey asked.
“We’ll have to investigate the smoke in case livestock are in danger.”
“Won’t Ernie and Wilbur be looking after the sheep?”
“They’ll likely be with the ewes and lambs, but Bungaree is a big place, and there is stock spread all overrams, wethers, horses, and cattle. If there’s a fire out there and Ernie and Wilbur have seen it, they might need a hand putting it out.”
Abbey was distracted as Sybil, Clementine, and Ralph came out through the gate from the backyard.
“We can smell smoke, Mr. Dobson,” Sybil called anxiously.
“We’ve seen it, Mrs. Hawker. Oliver and I will investigate,” Ben shouted back, just as Oliver Hubert appeared from behind the stables, carrying a rifle. He’d been checking on the stallions in their yards and feeding the deer that were fenced in an area not too far away. The Aboriginal visitors had been quite intrigued by the deer when they were first introduced. They’d never seen them before. But once they’d tasted one, the deer became a sort of treat. Taller fences had been built around their enclosure and locks put on the gates. This only encouraged the poachers to become more inventive. They dug under the fences or dropped into their pens from the trees. As a result, the deer were checked frequently.
While Michael hurriedly saddled horses, Ben told Oliver what they were going to do. Horses ready, they mounted and prepared to leave.
“I’ll come, too,” Michael said, throwing a saddle blanket over his own horse.
“No, Michael. You’re needed here,” Ben said firmly. “Mr. Hawker will be counting on you, son. Keep a gun handy, just in case any Aboriginal attackers come around here. Mrs. Hubert will give you extra ammunition if you need it.”
Michael, a quiet lad of about seventeen, nodded, but he looked alarmed by the heavy responsibility placed on him.
“And be careful,” Ben said sternly. He was torn. He didn’t want to take his son into possible danger, but he didn’t know if leaving him behind was even more dangerous.
As Ben and Oliver galloped away, Abbey joined Sybil, Clementine, and Ralph, just as Sabu came through the gate with a broom in his hand. He was carrying it as if he were going to use it as a weapon.
“Does Mr. Dobson think the Aboriginal people have started another bush fire?” Sybil asked Abbey in concern. She was thinking of Tom, William, and Martha, and praying their homesteads were safe.
“He didn’t say,” Abbey said, glancing curiously at the broom.
“Sabu doesn’t believe in using guns,” Sybil explained when she saw Abbey’s baffled expression. “It’s against his religious beliefs, but he doesn’t have a problem defending us with anything found in the kitchen.”
Abbey thought a meat cleaver might prove more useful if they were confronted with spears, but she didn’t say so for fear of fuelling Sybil’s anxiety.
“Maybe we should start filling buckets with water,” Ralph said. The thought of fighting another fire so soon was not something he relished, especially as he was feeling so unwell. He was perspiring profusely, and he felt dizzy, but he didn’t want to worry Clementine and tell her how terrible he felt.
Before anyone could reply to his suggestion, Ralph’s knees buckled beneath him. Sabu caught him just before he hit the dusty ground.
“Father,” Clementine cried. “Father, what’s wrong?”
“Mr. Feeble,” Sybil said frantically, as Sabu scooped him into his arms and carried him inside.
After depositing Ralph on the sofa in the living room, Sabu went to fetch a wet cloth and a glass of water. Using a thin book, Sybil fanned Ralph, who was barely conscious, while Clementine fussed with cushions to make him comfortable.
“I think he’s got a fever,” Clementine said to Sybil, after feeling his forehead. “For God’s sake, where is Dr. Ashbourne? He was supposed to return today to check Father.”
“Your father’s body must be trying to fight the infection from his burns,” Sybil said anxiously. “If only we had something that could clear it up. I’ve been using iodine and salt water when cleaning the burns, but obviously that’s not strong enough, and this heat doesn’t help.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Abbey asked from the doorway. She felt so helpless.
Clementine looked at her. “Do you think there’s any truth to what Mrs. Hubert said about that Aboriginal man knowing a bush remedy for infected burns?”
“I don’t know,” Abbey said honestly.
“What are you talking about?” Sybil asked, glancing from one young woman to the other.
“Doris Hubert said one of the Aboriginal stockmen knows of a bush remedy to heal burns,” Clementine told her.
“Did she?” Sybil said, interested. “I don’t know anything about it, but it could work.”
“I find it hard to believe that those people would have such knowledge,” Clementine said. “The Aboriginal people are so primitive.”
“Consider it, dear,” Sybil said. “The bush Aboriginal community doesn’t have doctors like we do, do they? So, it makes sense that they have to discover their own remedies for illness.”
“But they’re not the same as we are, are they?” Clementine stated with obvious distaste.
“They’re humans like we are,” Abbey said, unable to believe what she was hearing. Although she was fearful of the tribal Aboriginal men, she had always been interested in their culture.
Sabu came into the room with the wet cloth and a glass of water.
“Do you know anything about Ernie giving Ben Dobson a bush remedy for a burn, Sabu?” Abbey asked him. She watched with intrigue as his expression changed.
“Yes,” Sabu said brusquely. “The stockman did make something, and it healed the burn very quickly.” He turned away, obviously not wanting to discuss it.
Abbey was determined to find out more. “It would be useful for you to keep something like that in the kitchen,” she said. “You must burn yourself often. I know I do when I cook. Did you ask for some of the remedy or ask what it was made from?”
Sabu glared at her. “I do not burn myself,” he snapped and walked away.
Abbey had the feeling that Ernie and Sabu did not get along, and that the cook resented the Aboriginal stockman’s knowledge.
“There, you see, Clementine,” Sybil said, turning a blind eye to Sabu’s mood. She was used to his mercurial nature. “Obviously, whatever this remedy is, it works. Perhaps Mr. Dobson’s son knows what it is, or, better still, Mr. Dobson mightn’t have used all of what Ernie gave him. I’ll send Marie to find out.” She ordered the maid to go and look for Michael.
Marie returned to the house a short time later and told them that Michael didn’t know what Ernie had given his father. “He said it was some kind of paste that Ernie made,” Marie said. “But he didn’t know what it was made from, and there isn’t any left.”
“Where is Ernie?” Clementine asked.
“He’s with the sheep in a paddock somewhere,” Sybil said. “We won’t be able to talk to him until he comes back tonight, if he comes back. I think I heard Jack tell Elias that he wants Ernie and Wilbur to camp out with the ewes and lambs until this unrest with the Aboriginal troublemakers settles.”
Ralph groaned. “Clemmie,” he rasped, disoriented. “What happened?”
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