“There could well be some poison still kept at Prosser’s Run.” William glanced away as a movement over Joseph’s shoulder caught his eye. Another cow was making its way to the waterhole. Damned Wiltshire. If he’d poisoned the waterhole he’d really gone too far. “Do you mind staying here a little longer, Father?”
Joseph frowned. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to Prosser’s Run. See if I can find any answers there.”
“You won’t make it back here before dark.”
“We’d planned to camp anyway. You stay here somewhere close to the waterhole. Make sure the remaining stock stay healthy. I’ll be back by morning.” William looked in the direction of the tents. “And it won’t hurt for Barnes to know we’re watching.”
Forty-six
William approached the sprawling Prosser’s Run homestead with caution. The sun was a low orange glow casting long shadows of filtered light across the landscape by the time he got close. He hoped his mother-in-law would be home. He was not in the mood to trade insults with Swan.
There was little more than a breeze to ruffle the gums that dotted the front fence line of the house yard. Inside the fence the house sprawled low and wide with its verandahs stretching all the way around the outside. He’d only ever been as far as the kitchen, but William knew it was several rooms bigger than the house at Smith’s Ridge.
The lowering sun bathed the house in a golden glow, turning the stone walls to copper and honey. He was disappointed no smoke puffed from any of the chimneys. Perhaps Mrs Prosser wasn’t at home. He followed the house fence towards the buildings beyond and the sound of an axe echoed back at him.
He rode on past the house and in the fading light he could see Johanna bent over a log. She lifted her head at the sound of his approach and put a hand up to shield her eyes.
“William?” Her look of surprise turned to worry. “What are you doing here?”
He climbed down from his horse. He hadn’t seen his mother-in-law since the Federation celebrations. Georgina had of course, but he was stunned to see how much older again Johanna looked.
“Is it Georgina?”
“She’s perfectly well.” William gripped Big Red’s reins tightly. All the way there, he’d mulled over how to approach his mother-in-law on the topic of Charles Wiltshire. Now he wasn’t sure.
Johanna turned back to her axe.
“Let me do that.” He let go the reins and stepped forward.
Johanna sighed and allowed him to take the axe. “Swan hasn’t had time to cut me more wood and I’ve run out.”
“Where is Swan?”
“He and the men are off shifting the cattle. They’re not here often these days.” Johanna swayed.
William shot out a hand to support her. “Are you ill?”
She shook her head. “We’ve so little feed and water and only a few cattle left. Money is tight. I’m tired and I don’t sleep well, but I’m not ill.” She straightened and eased from his grasp. “No different from most bush people, I suspect. This drought is going to keep squeezing until our stock are all dead and we’re turned lifeless with them.”
William was surprised at her defeated air. Johanna Prosser had always struck him as a survivor. “You are too much on your own. I wish you would come and stay with us for a while at Smith’s Ridge.”
Johanna gave a soft snort. “Georgina said the same the last time she was here but I wouldn’t be comfortable there. And who would look after Prosser’s Run?”
The Mrs Prosser he knew had returned.
She stooped to collect the box she had partly filled with wood. “I’ll take this in and get the fire going, make up a pot of tea.” She gave him a steady look. “Then you can tell me why you’ve come.”
William nodded. She walked back to the house and he set to the task of chopping the wood.
The night was dark by the time William had finished a decent stockpile and seen to his horse. There were few clouds, only a sliver of moon, and a drop in the temperature that chilled his skin beneath his damp shirt. Arms loaded with more wood, he made his way carefully towards the lamp Johanna must have set at the back door. She showed him the wood box and where to wash. By the time he joined her inside there was a meal on the table and two places set.
“You were a long time out there chopping.” She gave him a tight smile. “Thank you.” She waved towards the second setting. “I thought you might be hungry.”
William’s stomach rumbled at the sight of the beef and potatoes she had served. “Very.” He grinned and took his place. He bowed his head as she said grace and watched her pour a mug of tea for him and a delicate teacup full for herself.
“Ellis never liked a cup for his tea. Said a man needed a decent stomach-full, not two sips.”
William took the napkin she had placed beside his plate.
“Do eat,” she said and picked up the knife to slice some bread. “I’m sorry it’s not much. I wasn’t expecting company.”
He had already downed two mouthfuls. “I’m grateful. It’s been a long time since breakfast.”
They ate in silence, the crackle of the fire and the flutter of moths against the glass the only sounds.
“How is my daughter?”
“Very well. She spends a lot of time working the horses.”
“That’s good,” she said and they lapsed back into silence.
William could not think of any common ground between them. When he’d finished, she offered him more meat. He accepted it between two layers of her fresh bread.
“Perhaps you’d better tell me why you’ve come.” Johanna sat her cutlery neatly across her partly finished meal and studied him. “I am assuming it’s not a social call.”
William washed down his mouthful of food with some of the tea. He opened his mouth, closed it again and took a breath.
“Best just spit out whatever’s bothering you,” she said.
“I believe — I’m not sure — but perhaps Charles Wiltshire paid a visit here yesterday.”
She inclined her head slightly, watching him.
“After he returned to my waterhole, where he has his mining claim, and before I arrived today, two of my cattle died. I think they were poisoned.”
Johanna frowned.
“I came to ask if he got that poison from you.”
She gasped. “I know I haven’t treated you well in the past but I hope you wouldn’t think so badly of me that I would be a party to such a terrible deed.”
William shook his head quickly. “I’m not accusing you of giving it to him, I simply wondered if he might have obtained the poison at Prosser’s Run.”
“I didn’t know he was here until he’d already filled and loaded two barrels of water. I did think he was acting rather strangely.” She sniffed. “Usually he wants to spend his time trying to charm me, but there was none of that yesterday. He was anxious to be on his way. After he left I went to the buildings where he’d had his cart. We keep spare barrels in the big stone shed.” A strange look crossed Johanna’s face and she put a hand to her cheek. “And the smaller building right next to it is the place where Swan stores the poison.”
William pushed back in his chair. “Mind if I take a look?”
“You won’t see too much out there tonight even with a lantern. Can you stay? We can have a look at first light. Swan could even be back by then. He will know if anything is missing.”
William studied Johanna. Her stance was stiff, her look said she did not care whether or not he stayed, but William thought otherwise. His mother-in-law was lonely and in spite of the truce between her and Georgina there was still much to be done to mend the rift that marriage to William had caused.
“Thank you,” he said.
When he finally went to sleep in the strange bed with sheets that smelled of camphor William slept so heavily it took him a moment to work out where he was when he first opened his eyes the next morning. The room was dark and the dull glow of early light came from behind a curta
in, which was in the wrong position. Then he remembered he was at Prosser’s Run. He rose immediately and drew back the curtain. He had slept late. There was already enough light for him to investigate the outer buildings. He pulled on his clothes and made his way along the hall, through the sitting room and into the kitchen. Johanna was already there. She was pouring hot water into the teapot as he entered.
“Just in time.” She gave him a tentative smile. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very.” He didn’t sit where she’d set his place at the table.
“It’s crisp outside this morning.” She poured tea into a mug. “You will need something warm inside you before we go to the outbuildings.”
He took the mug she offered. The kitchen was warm but the late April mornings were cool first thing. He hadn’t drunk too much of the tea before his anxiety to head out infected his hostess. Johanna pulled on a coat and he followed her outside to retrieve his boots.
They retraced the steps they’d both taken yesterday to the woodpile, where Johanna nodded thoughtfully at the large stack of logs he’d cut. Big Red nickered from the yard nearby as they crossed to the first of the stone buildings. William paused in front. It was a huge structure with high walls and strong wooden rafters supporting a tin roof. It had two doors that stretched almost the height of the wall. One was locked open. The building could house wagons, bags of grain, even horses or cattle if necessary, but today there was only a wagon, Johanna’s compact sprung cart and a stack of empty barrels inside.
Johanna dragged open the door to the second smaller shed before William had caught her up. The weak early-morning light filtered in around them as they stepped inside.
“Swan knows what’s kept here better than I but he wasn’t here the day Charles came.”
The musty smell from the dirt floor dissipated as the cooler outside air flowed in. Shelves lined one wall and William followed Johanna to inspect them.
“There,” she said almost straight away. Lined up along the top shelf were several jars and bottles, and in the middle there was a space.
William stretched up just high enough to see the round mark imprinted in the dust where something had recently stood. He felt his anger returning, spreading its burning tendrils inside him. “Something has been newly removed from here.”
“The bottle of poison. It was clearly labelled. We’ve had no use for it for at least a year.” Johanna shook her head in tiny movements, her mouth slightly open. “And you think he used it to poison your cattle?”
William looked her steadily in the eye, his hands closed into fists at his sides. “I would stake my life on it, but I have no real evidence.”
She sagged as if the wind had gone from her. “I’ve been such a fool. I realise now I thought more about the Wiltshires’ standing in the community than I thought about the people they are. Ever since Charles married his shop assistant I’ve seen another side to him. I know he can be forceful and ostentatious but …” She gripped William’s arm. “Do you really think he is capable of poisoning stock and putting people’s lives at risk? I know it’s out of the way, but what if one of your stockmen or mine had stopped to drink at that waterhole?”
“Or the natives who live in the hills.”
Her hand fell back to her side. “It’s too terrible to contemplate.”
“I must get back. My father is camped at the waterhole keeping a watch on the cattle.” William had made up his mind he would ride to Hawker to have this out with Wiltshire. Even though he had no solid proof, he was sure he was right about the poisoning.
“Of course. Will you go to see Charles?”
“Yes.”
Johanna’s shoulders drooped. She looked suddenly very old and small. William thought about the big empty house and the table, a place set for his breakfast. Then just as quickly she drew herself up, determination on her face.
“I will get you some food while you saddle your horse.”
“Thank you.”
“And William.” She looked him up and down. “Perhaps a change of clothes.”
In a brand-new shirt and trousers, once meant for Georgina’s brother, Rufus, William made it back to the waterhole in good time. Clouds kept the mid-morning sun from becoming too fierce. They even looked as if they could contain rain but William had seen that look too often over the last few years, and only little or none at all had eventuated.
He skirted around the claim to the vantage point above the waterhole on the other side of the creek, where his father was putting out his small fire.
“How did you get on?” Joseph asked as William climbed down from his horse.
“Charles was definitely at Prosser’s Run. Mrs Prosser said he was acting strangely and I saw the place where the poison bottle had stood gathering dust until very recently. Still she didn’t actually see him with the bottle.”
“Have a look there.” Joseph pointed behind him to a log just beyond his fire. A small calico bag rested against it.
William picked up the bag, feeling a solid shape through the fabric. He peered inside. A dark cork was wedged into the top of a brown glass bottle. He slowly shifted his gaze back to his father. “Where did you find this?”
“It was stuffed inside that hollow log. The very log I sat on last night to eat my food. I only noticed it this morning when I dropped my mug. I bent down to retrieve it and saw the end of the bottle just inside the hollow.”
William lifted the bottle from the bag and read the label. Rabbit poison was clearly marked on the side.
“There’s still some left,” Joseph said. “Not a good sign.”
William tilted the dark brown bottle to see there was indeed some liquid still inside. “So he was planning to come back and try again.”
“Perhaps.” Joseph shrugged his shoulders.
The bellow of a cow made William turn and look down at the waterhole. This time there were three thin-looking cattle heading towards the water. He sucked in a breath.
“They’ll be all right,” Joseph said. “I’ve watched several drink — some yesterday and some early this morning. They don’t seem to be bothered. I think the poison has been diluted by the large expanse of water. Those first two were probably unlucky to drink not long after it was added.”
William slipped the bottle back into the bag. “Can you take the cart back to the homestead?”
“Where are you going?”
William stashed the bag with its grim contents into his saddle bag. “To Hawker.”
Forty-seven
Henry sat in a chair tucked to one side of his sitting room and watched the milling group of people drinking his wine and eating his food. They were mostly friends of Charles and Edith. Not that the house was overflowing with guests. Thankfully for his purse the christening was a much smaller affair than their wedding.
Few of Henry’s old friends were there, having found some other event or work that meant they could decline the invitation to Leonard’s christening. Councillor Hill and his wife were there but with only one of their daughters. The eldest had married and now lived in Adelaide. The Buttons were there of course, they could always be relied upon, but the Taylors were in Port Augusta, where Sydney had recently accepted the stationmaster’s role, and they had yet to meet this replacement.
Henry took a bite of the savoury puff he held in his hand. It had gone cold and wasn’t as nice as those Flora used to make. He drew in a breath; the pain of Flora’s loss still ached inside him. He had tried every avenue he could to track her down. Unbeknown to Charles he’d even hired a chap in Adelaide to do some searching for him, but it had cost him a handsome packet with no return. Henry had resigned himself to a lonely existence.
A burst of children’s laughter drifted through the open window, Laura’s giggles soft and sweet among it. The few children who had come along had been relegated to the side verandah. Henry was thankful he had his dear daughter, who brought sunshine to his life and was always happy. Even when Edith was reprimanding her, Laura kept her good hum
our.
“Leonard is off to his bed now, everyone.”
Henry shifted his gaze to his son, who was posturing proudly in the centre of the room with Edith beside him, holding the baby. The christening gown had been replaced by a new outfit: something not quite as frilly this time. Leonard had been christened in the gown worn by his father and his Aunty Laura but Edith had insisted on something new for afterwards.
There were best wishes and soft calls from those gathered as Charles guided his wife from the room. Henry glimpsed movement at the window and saw Laura peering in. At least the weather was pleasant enough to be outside. A sunny autumn day with a gentle breeze rather than the burst of hot days they’d had all week. The voices in the room grew louder again. Henry sighed. He hoped the party wouldn’t drag on too long.
Leonard’s tiny face was red, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he drew breath and then began to cry. Edith was bent over his cradle making tutting noises.
“What’s wrong with him?” Charles asked. He had rarely seen his son so upset.
“Too much fussing.” Edith stood back and Leonard continued to bellow, his arms and legs flailing and disturbing the blanket she had tucked around him. “Mrs Button and Mrs Hill both insisted on taking him from his perambulator and holding him. His routine is out of kilter.”
Charles winced as Leonard’s wails grew louder. “What are we to do?”
“He will cry himself out.” Edith took her hand from the cradle. “One of the good things about living in these cramped quarters is he can’t be heard from the house.”
Charles looked down at his distressed son and longed to pick him up, but he knew that would make Edith cross. She insisted too much holding would spoil the child.
“Oh for goodness sake, I shall have to feed him.” Edith lowered herself to her chair and began to unbutton her shirt. “All that yelling has made my milk flow. Pass him to me, Charles.”
Charles did as he was bid and felt instant relief as his son’s cries ceased at his wife’s breast. He moved away. The sight of his son suckling turned his stomach, though he would never admit as much to Edith.
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