Thunder clapped and the rain increased, drumming on the canvas and drowning out their voices.
To be heard, Gil leant close to Pippa’s ear. ‘This is your fault!’
‘I didn’t know she was ill,’ she hissed back. ‘If I’d known, we’d have stayed at the hotel.’
Gil ripped his sodden hat off and slapped it against his leg. ‘You never think of anyone besides yourself. Everything must begin and end with you and your obsession to be important and unbelievably rich.’
Outraged by his surprise attack, Pippa bristled. ‘How dare you!’
‘Oh, I dare all right when it comes to my sister’s safety.’
‘I didn’t beg you to accompany me, and I certainly didn’t ask Augusta to come.’
‘I should never have agreed to this madness.’
‘Then why did you? I didn’t plead with you, did I?’
‘How could I refuse you?’ His eyes narrowed, darkened to the colour of wet moss. ‘You are selfish, Philippa Noble. I’ve put up with it in the past, but not any more.’
‘Selfish! If you call taking care of my family, putting them first, selfish, then I am as you claim.’ She raised her chin, fighting back the hurt his words caused. ‘I do what I do for my family’s security. For years we’ve struggled to maintain some scrap of decency out of the mess my father placed us in. I will never allow us to be in that situation again.’
Gil lingered a moment, his face close to hers. Some of his anger died and a look of confusion crossed his face. His gaze dropped to her lips, to her heaving chest, and back to her eyes.
Pippa felt a sudden tingling in the pit of her stomach. Shocked by the sensation, she drew back and quickly knelt to fiddle with a stick poking out of the fire. She knew that feeling, that awareness; she’d grown used to it over the years, for she’d felt it whenever Grant had been near.
Attraction.
Frowning, she jammed the stick into the embers. Why now? Why with Gil? He was her friend. She couldn’t have survived the last couple of years without him. So why did it have to change now? Oh, they had humorously flirted with each other before, when they first met, but it had been safe, trusting. Never had they exchanged such an intense look as they had just now. She didn’t want to feel anything but friendship for him. She wasn’t looking for love. It’d been an emotion that nearly ruined her before, she wasn’t eager to experience it again. Besides, she had a business to run and nothing could get in the way of that, not yet.
Pippa shook her head and, for a moment more, ignored the brother and sister talking on the opposite side of the fire so she could gather her thoughts. Her powerful reaction to Gil must be due to the circumstances they were in; a stormy night, stranded in the bush with a sick loved one. Well, she could handle any situation. Hadn’t she been tested so many times before?
‘Pippa?’
She glanced up at Gil, his stance rigid, as though he could read her thoughts, and she felt heat flow into her face that had nothing to do with the fire. ‘Yes?’
‘We’ll never make it back to that inn tonight, but being out in this weather will only make Augusta worse.’
‘I know.’ She nodded, pushing their argument to the back of her mind. ‘The best we can do is make the fire bigger to keep her warm. I can make her a seat of sorts out of my coat. It’s dry on the inside.’
Gil nodded. ‘Make some tea. Mick and I will try to find drier wood.’ He wrapped Augusta in his coat and then stepped nearer to Pippa. ‘If she gets worse, I’ll blame you.’ He turned and stalked out into the night.
His whispered warning lingered on the moist air. Pippa busied herself at the fire once more, finally creating a larger blaze. Anger and resentment burned. How dare Gil speak to her so rudely? She would show him. She’d show them all. Come morning, she’d send them home and go on alone. Once before she’d put her trust in a man, but never again. She didn’t need Gil Ashford with his harsh words and smouldering looks. She didn’t need anyone.
Chapter Nineteen
They spent a shivering, hungry night, but at last the sun rose, etching the sky in coral pink as though the greyness of yesterday had never been.
Pippa, after checking that Augusta still slept, escaped the tent and hurried to the horses. A short time later, she’d saddled, packed her horse, and was leading it onto the road. With the assistance of a nearby tree stump, she mounted and, with a last look back, rode away.
Anger still simmered in her chest over Gil’s brusque manner last night. It wasn’t her fault Augusta became ill. Well, maybe it was, but it wasn’t intentional. Augusta should have mentioned that she felt unwell before they set out in the rain. She loved Augusta like a sister and wouldn’t wish her any harm, so Gil had no right to take it out on her. In fact, the time away from each other would be a blessing. The undercurrent of attraction that sprang to life last night alarmed her. They’d reached a turning point in their relationship and she wasn’t certain where it would go from here. Sadness filled her at the thought of losing her best friend.
Shaking her head and dismissing those confusing thoughts, she focused on the day ahead. She hoped to reach Ballarat just after noon.
As the hours passed and the sun climbed higher, the dense bush started to share its space with the odd shanty and campsite. Wherever a creek meandered through the trees, there were sure to be signs of human habitation in some basic form as men sought to find the rich mineral.
With each mile that brought her closer to the township, she forgot Gil and their argument and concentrated on her task. She had a mission to entice men to the valley to work for her, and to do that she had to be the hard businesswoman she’d become, the woman who had no time to think of Gil and his behaviour or of her own reaction.
It took the better part of the day to reach Ballarat. The recent bad weather turned the roads into mud pits, concealing the deep ruts beneath their murky surface. Many times she found it easier to ride in the scrub alongside the road, especially when passing bullock drays that filled the width of the track. Soon she was overtaking many men walking, carrying their belongings on their backs or pushing handcarts. All headed in the one direction like a herd of sheep, they followed the road to the diggings.
Exhausted, saddle sore, and hungry, Pippa finally reined in before a wooden building situated in the middle of town, proclaiming itself to be an inn and stables. For a moment she didn’t dismount and simply stared. Ballarat was like nothing she’d ever seen. The entire place was raw, scarred. Trees and grass had given way to dirt streets, timbered huts and buildings, or white canvas tents. The whole area rang with the noise of thousands of people. Men and clamour were everywhere. Hammering at the blacksmith’s, fighting in the street, yelling, whistling, bartering, the rumbling of cartwheels, the erection of buildings and tent poles being pounded into the dirt.
The sense of urgency, of expectation, filled the air like a continual humming. Here was a unique madness, and she loved it. Here things happened. Fortunes were made. Deals done. She heard five different accents within the space of a few seconds as people swirled around her, hurrying on the adventure to make it rich. It seemed the whole world was right before her in this dirt-filled city.
Pippa embraced the raw excitement as it fired along her veins. Suddenly, she wanted to be a part of it – would be a part of it.
‘Can I help you, miss?’
Pippa looked down at a young lad standing near her right stirrup. She smiled. ‘Do you work here?’
‘Yes, ma’am. I’m the stable hand. We’ve got fine stables at the back.’ He pointed behind, and Pippa noticed the untreated timber gates.
‘Good. Yes, you can help me.’ Pippa dismounted and winced as her back and leg muscles protested. She pulled her reticule out of the saddlebag. ‘My horse needs a feed and a good rub down. Don’t stint on either and I’ll see you well.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He grabbed the horse’s bridle.
‘Tell me, will I find a decent meal and bed for the night in there?’ She pointed to the
inn’s front door.
‘There aren’t too many places, and we’d be about the best in town.’
‘I want to look around for a while. Can you let the landlord know I’ll be needing his best room for at least a week?’
The boy scratched his head under the flat cap he wore. ‘I’ll let him know, but he’s only got two rooms, real tiny they are, too, miss. Sometimes the only space he has left to rent is the floor.’
‘Tell him I’ll pay double the rent for a room.’
‘He does have tents out the back, but the weather has made them damp …’
Pippa frowned. The last thing she wanted was another damp night. ‘I’ll be back in an hour to sort something out, just let him know, will you?’
She crossed the muddy street, dodging puddles and lumps of manure. She walked along two more streets, admiring the newly built shops and the goods available for sale. Turning a corner, the street was narrower and the shops changed to become more unkempt. She became aware of the stares, the gawking of men who’d long forgotten how to bathe. Drunken layabouts littered the front of shanty shops, and she was hard-pressed to find another woman among the flotsam tide of men.
‘My, my, look what the storm tossed up, a pretty bit of treasure.’ A greasy-haired man with blackened and missing teeth thrust himself away from a group of loitering men and stalked around Pippa, halting her progress.
‘Excuse me, please.’ Pippa stepped to once side, glancing at the cluster of men.
The man blocked her exit and laughed back to his friends. ‘Listen to the pretty bird, sweet as can be.’ He plunged his hands into his trouser pockets and grinned. ‘Care to sing a tune, little bird?’
‘Stop harassing me and be on your way.’ Angered, Pippa dodged him again, lifting the hem of her brown riding habit high from the mud.
‘Nice turn of the ankle, too.’
‘Leave her be, Reg, she’s not the type to accept a quick tumble in the bushes.’
Pippa looked at the speaker and frowned as he pulled his wide-brimmed hat down low on his brow. Something about him needled the back of her mind, but she soon dismissed him as the man called Reg leered closer to her face and she reared away. ‘Leave me alone!’
‘Tell me, sweet bird, do you think you’ll enjoy a tumble or two?’
Pippa noticed a barn-type creation that broadcasted its use as a general store and hurried for it. Reg’s laugh followed her and at the door she paused, turned around, and gave him a cold, superior look.
She entered the dim interior and immediately stepped aside as two men, carrying crates of goods, edged past on their way out. They gave her a nod of thanks and she smiled before gazing around the unique store. From ceiling to floor, goods of all description littered every conceivable space, all stacked haphazardly on rough-sawn timber shelves.
She headed for the bottles of cider near the counter. The sign showing the scandalous price made her blink in confusion. She didn’t want to buy a whole case full. Lifting up a bottle, she went to the tall man stacking shelves in the corner.
‘Excuse me, I wish to purchase this bottle of cider.’
He turned and his gaze flickered over her length before he stepped to the counter. ‘Of course, madam.’
Pippa noticed he walked with a slight limp. Something about him caught her attention. As she waited for him to clear a bundle of hammers off the surface, she studied him. He appeared to be in his thirties, fairly handsome in a rough way. He had an air of neglect about him which intrigued her. ‘You have a very full shop.’
He paused and looked at her with soft grey eyes. ‘Yes. That’ll be a shilling, please.’
‘A shilling?’ Pippa, eyes wide, looked from him to the bottle and back again. ‘For one small bottle?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s the going rate.’
She laughed. ‘How outrageous. You aren’t serious.’
‘Listen, lady, I’ve got a lot to do. Do you want the bottle or not?’
She lifted her chin at his rudeness; all merriment vanished. ‘Is this your shop?’
He folded his arms, and the muscles stretched the thin material of his white shirt. ‘Aye.’
She peered around, taking in the prices marked on every item and the sign above his dark head that said ‘No Credit’. She raised her eyebrows and stared into his grey eyes. ‘And people pay your prices?’
His lips tightened and he shifted his weight from foot to foot, favouring his bad leg. ‘Do you want the cider or not?’
Pippa tapped the fingers of one hand on the countertop. Her business mind came to the fore, calculating, assessing, looking for every opportunity to make money. ‘How many stores like yours are there in this town?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘One or two.’
‘Are there—’
At this point three men strode into the shop, noisily talking and laughing, slapping each other on the back. They came straight to the counter. One man flourished a piece of paper and another man pulled a leather pouch from his coat pocket. Pippa stood aside as the men performed a little ceremony of tipping the pouch upside down. A waterfall of glittering gold flecks cascaded into a small mound on the scratched timber surface.
In utter amazement, Pippa stared. Gold. Real gold, right in front of her.
The shortest of the men smoothed out the piece of paper beside the pile. ‘Could you fill this list, please, proprietor, until there’s no gold left?’
With accustomed ease, the intriguing man behind the counter picked up the list and read it. ‘I’ll have the order completed within the hour.’
‘Excellent!’ Again, with much laughter, the men trundled out again, voicing differing opinions of where to go next.
Pippa looked back to the man and realised he’d been watching her.
A wry lift of his lips made him deeply attractive. He was mature, with a hint of silver in his dark hair and lines running from nose to mouth, but all that only added to his allure. ‘Now you see why I can put those outrageous prices on my goods. Some men dig for gold. I sell the goods to help them dig for that gold. Understand the cycle now?’
Nodding, Pippa felt the need to sit down, and she didn’t know if it was a reaction to him or to the gold in front of her. ‘Is it always like that?’
He sighed deeply, selected a few gold flakes, and rubbed them between his finger and thumb. ‘No. Naturally, there’s the ugly side to it. When men have lost everything they own except the clothes they wear. They beg for credit, try to steal from me, hold me at knifepoint sometimes, anything to get them back to their diggings. Gold fever is worse than any other disease, for it strips a man’s dignity, his humanity, his very soul.’ He shook himself as if dispersing a shadow, dusted his fingers over the small pile, and pierced her with his gaze. ‘I guess you didn’t want to hear that. No doubt your husband is panning in some creek right now.’
‘I have no husband.’
A spark of interest crossed his ruggedly handsome face for a second before it was gone. ‘Then why are you here?’
‘Business.’
‘Really?’ He stepped back and folded his arms. His eyes narrowed with blatant suspicion. ‘What kind?’
She knew what he was thinking. What kind of business did women run in a town full of men? He’d already slated her to be a whorehouse madam. Pippa hid a secret smile. ‘My business is in recruitment.’
‘Perhaps you can enlighten me more over a drink across the road?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Her skin prickled as his gaze ran sensually over her. He didn’t hide the fact he was interested in her for one reason only, and her body responded to the thought. She stiffened.
The air throbbed with a mixture of attraction and danger. Pippa became aware that she had no protection now that she had left Gil.
Gil.
He flashed through her mind. Was it barely yesterday when he had looked at her like this man was doing now?
She drew back her shoulders. Men! Did they all think they could take what they wanted and throw the lef
tovers away like rubbish in the gutter? She’d not make the mistake of loving a man to distraction like she had done with Grant Lindfield again. Men used women, but she’d make sure she used them from now on.
The gold sparkled as the dying sun slanted through a small, glassless opening in the wall. It brought her mind back to the present. She looked at the man, knowing he’d been studying her quietness, appraising her quality.
Pippa pretended to lose concentration and sauntered around the stacked, cramped aisles. ‘I own a valley—’
‘A valley?’ He frowned.
‘Yes. It’s two days’ coach from Sydney. I need men for labour. The goldfields have lured them away. I’ve come to claim a few back.’
‘What’s your name?’
Pippa glanced up from inspecting a selection of nails. ‘We have failed to perform the ritual of pleasantries required by civilised people.’
Laughter twinkled in his eyes. ‘Perhaps we are not very civilised?’
‘Speak for yourself, sir.’
‘My name is Marshall.’
‘You don’t have a first name?’
‘Do I need one?’
Crossing the floor to another shelf piled high with balls of twine, chisels, trowels, and all manner of things, Pippa pondered his flippancy. He wasn’t a gentleman, not like Gil, but he was captivating, and more importantly he was a businessman. ‘I have a good mind to set up a supply store like this myself.’
He laughed. ‘Indeed? I thought you were looking for labourers?’
Ignoring him, she picked up a dusty scrubbing brush and wrinkled her nose as it dirtied her riding gloves. ‘Naturally I will undercut your prices.’
The smile slipped from his face. ‘You think this is a game?’
‘Not at all.’ She meandered around barrels filled with rakes and shovels. ‘I’m sure there’s more than enough to go around.’ Mentally she absorbed as much information about his shop and the prices he displayed as possible.
Marshall’s face hardened. ‘This town is no place for a gentlewoman.’
Pippa laughed softly. ‘I am no gentlewoman when it comes to business, I assure you.’
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