Legendary Blue Diamond

by Mark Stewart

  THE TALL, slender, soft-featured, blue-eyed woman, known as Jessica Hayes, sat staring out of the train’s window. In the small draw left of the center of the overhead luggage compartment, she placed the two fully loaded solid silver guns and the gun belt. She stored everything else she owned in the luggage rack; two dresses and a hat. The only other valuable item she carried happened to be the blue diamond ring on her finger. Thanks to Forland she knew the value of the rare blue diamond ring.

  The screeching of the steam train’s brakes brought Jessica out of her daydream. When the train stopped, stifling heat poured in through the open window. The door to Jessica’s private booth slid open. A smiling young man in his late teens looked in.

  “Sorry for the inconvenience Mrs. Hayes the train has stopped to take on water. It entered my mind you might want to stretch your legs. I’ll be more than happy to escort you off the train. I will also see to your safety throughout this slight delay.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Kepler; I’ll take you up on that offer. Your expertise on manners is outstanding. However, I want to correct one important fact. Somehow you have been misinformed over my name. I’m Miss Jessica Hayes.”

  “I’ll certainly remember that fact,” blurted the young man. His pupils danced at discovering Jessica didn’t have a husband. He pushed his way through the narrow doorway before rudely inviting himself to sit shoulder to shoulder next to Jessica. “How good is this private compartment?” he started.

  “Very, though I am wondering how I managed to score it seeing how I only paid for a seat at the rear of the train?”

  “A few minutes before departure, I learned the room was still vacant. I took it upon myself to upgrade you from one of the worst seats on the train. A pretty woman like you shouldn’t have to put up with soot or smoke blowing in through the open window from the engine.”

  “Tell me something, how close are we to Bendigo?”

  “We’re only two hours out. All going well, we’ll arrive in the center of town at exactly 4:00pm,” reported Kepler. “Miss Jessica, I’ll be gone for only a few moments. I want to make sure the corridor to the closest exit is free of commuters. It’s part of my service.”

  Jessica only needed to wait, a full minute before he returned, blocking the doorway. Kepler, bowing slightly handed over a full glass of water. Taking the glass in her left hand, Jessica gave a half-hearted smile. She drank three-quarters of the water before handing the glass back. Reaching for her hand, Kepler escorted her into the corridor and led the way to the closest exit.

  Jessica felt surprised the handsome young man did everything he could think of to see to her comforts even though he thought she might be a married woman. She certainly didn’t want another man in her life. She only wanted to get back to the sheep station. One hour horse ride west of Bendigo found her at the back-corner post belonging to the Rosedale.

  When Jessica reached the train’s exit door, she lifted her hand to shade her eyes from the glare. She deduced the sun seemed extra hot for the time of year. She looked skywards, counting, on the hand, the number of clouds in the pale blue sky. Three birds brave enough to fly in the heat flew past the clearing on their quest for water.

  Stepping from the train, Jessica watched the hive of activity. The engineer and the fireman were busy at the task of taking on water for the rest of the trip while several dozen commuters were about to venture into the scrub for a look see.

  Jessica swatted her hand at a countless number of flies buzzing around her face wanting to taste her sweat. She chuckled at her antics, wondering why she still couldn’t adapt to the flies even after growing up in Melbourne. Her parents migrated to Australia from England of their own free will. Jessica was conceived on the ship the same day her parents viewed the sunset on the evening of their seventh day. Her aunt and uncle were on the same ship. They agreed to take on the role of Jessica’s guardians after the death of her parents.

  One rainy day they sat Jessica down and told her interesting information.

  ‘Before leaving England, her uncle had secured a blacksmith’s job. Jessica didn’t know her natural mother; she died two weeks after giving birth. Her natural father soon followed from a broken heart, so her aunt and uncle inherited the house. Before Jessica’s birth, her father had been an extremely successful banker. They lived in a large four-room house not far from central Melbourne. Unlike most other houses in the neighbourhood with their weatherboard walls, where Jessica lived, solid red bricks had been used for the external cladding. The outhouse also made of bricks featured a long drop which helped the small room to be stink proof. Even the flies didn’t smell the feces at the bottom of the hole.’

  One day when her guardians went into town, Jessica measured the depth of the ten-inch round hole using a small rock tied to a ball of string just to curb her curiosity. The depth of the hole measured forty feet. Compared to other outhouses in the street, theirs always smelt of a perfumed rose bush full of flowers. Her uncle continuously saw a brood of women gossiping about how rich he must have been.

  Jessica’s aunt and uncle were never mean however they did expect she should earn her keep. For some reason, they never wanted children of their own, but they spoiled Jessica rotten. By the time she turned ten, they had moved away from the city to the mountains where she had learned to shoot a rifle. One balmy morning at the ripe old age of fourteen, her uncle sat Jessica down to show her the sought after precious solid silver colt 45’s. On her eighteenth birthday, Jessica would inherit the guns. In less than a minute, the guns were re-wrapped in a strip of blanket and placed back in the gun cabinet. He gave her a wink, locked the door and started to relay the story of the guns.

  ‘The gun’s silver belt buckle matched the handcrafted silver guns. A horse with a long mane rearing up on its hind legs on either side of the word ‘COLT’ had been engraved using gold. An old man at the end of his days gave her uncle the guns to say thanks for stopping to render assistance from a bite he received from a Tiger snake. In his last few minutes before he met his maker, the old man explained the story of the guns.

  Before purchasing the handcrafted guns, the old man had ridden across the Australian desert. He relayed a warning. Many people knew of the gun’s existence. They were wanted items, particularly by bushrangers. If the gun’s location were found, they’d fetch a high price.’

  Eventually, bushrangers came looking for the guns. Jessica’s uncle refused to divulge their location. The men murdered her aunt and shot her uncle. The moment he fired his last bullet Jessica’s uncle leaned back against a tree. Blood poured from the hole in his chest. Jessica’s uncle handed over the silver colt .45’s and the gun belt. He placed his hand on her shoulder before telling her to run. Never look back.

  Gripping the gun belt in both hands, Jessica escaped the clutches of the bushrangers by scurrying into the scrub to hide. She could hear them yelling, torturing her uncle hoping he’d give up the secret to the where-a-bouts of the guns. He never did. He took the secret to his grave. To Jessica, her uncle will always be a hero.

  Frustrated, the bushrangers burnt the homestead which overlooked the sea to the ground.

  Jessica ran sobbing further into the bush. She stopped only when she tripped over a thin dead tree lying prone half buried in the dirt. She hid there for hours planning what to do. She’d go back to school to accomplish her uncle’s wishes before returning to the Rosedale sheep station she inherited. The land was hers to do what she wanted. Sell or keep it. Jessica was only six the last time she’d seen the place. The Rosedale boasted a total of one thousand sheep. A man named Lightening Dawn helped to run the place.

  On that horrible day, alone in the middle of the Australian scrub, she made a solemn vow the guns were going to stay in her possession and handed down through generations. She owed her uncle at least that much.

  CHAPTER THREE