She snatched the papers from him and began to read. ‘Snowy’s alive,’ she gasped. ‘Thank god. So many of those men never made it further than that awful railway. How is he? Did you get to see him?’
Jack nodded. ‘Spirit’s up as always, but the bloke’s skin and bone. It’ll be a while before he’s right. Being tied to one place has almost killed his spirit. He’s desperate to return home to his tribe.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘Snowy’s an amazing bloke, Aurelia. He’s already making plans to write about his experiences and a publisher in Sydney’s offered him a fair amount of money to do it. Reckon he’s set up for life.’
Aurelia sighed with satisfaction. ‘Good to know some good’s come out of the war – I’m glad his missionary education has given him the ability to do something for himself.’
‘Read the rest of the documents, Aurelia,’ said Jack grimly. ‘There’s more.’
Aurelia frowned as she returned to the tightly written pages. Then her frown deepened as she scanned the letter that was with them. ‘Oh my God,’ she gasped. ‘It can’t be true.’
‘I can assure you it is,’ he said as he reached for her hand. ‘Reckon we got some serious talking to do. The way I see it, things are about to come to a head, and we need to have a clear idea of what to do when it does. Reckon we have a couple of days at most before this busts wide open.’
Aurelia looked out of the window, caught a glimpse of something on the horizon and knew instinctively what it was. ‘You’ve been too optimistic,’ she said with despair. ‘Looks like we’ve just run out of time.’
*
Ellie pulled away from Aurelia and blew her nose. She was ashamed at having broken down like that, but her nerves were frayed and she’d realised some time ago that she’d been unfair to Claire. She deserved to know all of it, regardless of how painful it was – for until she did she wouldn’t be able to move on with her life. None of them would.
She pulled herself out of the chair and crossed the room. Taking Claire’s cold hand she sat on the arm of her chair and stroked her hair. ‘Remember how we joked about the strong Warratah women?’ she asked with great gentleness.
Claire nodded, her beautiful blue eyes swimming with tears as she looked up at her mother. Her heart was breaking, and so was Ellie’s.
‘Then this is the time for both of us to show what we’re made of,’ she said softly. ‘Because the next few minutes will be the hardest either of us will have to survive.’
‘Don’t,’ whispered Claire. ‘Please don’t say what I think you’re about to.’
Ellie took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. ‘I must,’ she whispered. ‘Then it will be done.’
*
‘Sounds like a good deal to me,’ said Ellie as she hoisted logs. ‘I get a marriage certificate, the baby gets a name and you get what you wanted. I should take the cheque if I were you.’
This wasn’t what he’d expected to hear, and after the humiliation Aurelia had meted out, his temper was rising. ‘Why won’t you believe I love you?’ he said heatedly. ‘Why won’t you understand that it isn’t only Warratah or the money that matter?’ He stilled her hands. ‘Stop that, and listen,’ he ordered.
She pulled away. ‘Don’t touch me,’ she hissed. ‘I don’t ever want you to touch me again.’
Rage tore through him. ‘I bet you wouldn’t say that to Joe if he was here,’ he stormed.
‘You’re damn right,’ she yelled back. ‘Joe was twice the man you’ll ever be and he would never have done what you did.’
He almost hit her then, the rage so great he was barely able to keep his hands to himself. ‘Joe’s dead,’ he roared.
Ellie squared her shoulders and looked up at him stonily. ‘I know,’ she said coldly.
The frustration and years of torment finally boiled over. ‘No you don’t,’ he yelled. ‘He’s still alive as far as you’re concerned. He haunts you, just as much as he haunts me. I had to get rid of him. Had to make you see me.’ He grabbed her arms, shaking her as if by doing so he could force her to understand. ‘Me,’ he shouted. ‘Me. Charlie.’
Through the red haze of rage Charlie became vaguely aware of the utility coming at speed into the yard. Aware of dark eyes watching from the native humpies and the presence of Aurelia and the others on the verandah. Yet he was beyond reason. His grip on her arms increased and he shouted down into her face. ‘Joe, Joe, Joe. I’m sick of playing second fiddle to my blasted twin. It’s always been Joe who got the attention. Always Joe who got the good toys when we were kids. Joe who won the school prizes and the teacher’s praise. Mum loved him the best and dad gave him the rifle. Joe got the best horse. Joe got you. And if he hadn’t died he’d have had flamin’ Warratah as well.’
Ellie was stiff in his grip, her face pale and set. ‘It doesn’t excuse you for what you did,’ she snapped.
He shook her again. ‘Joe’s shadow’s always been between us. I see it every time I look in your eyes. I had to get rid of him. Had to wipe him out of our lives once and for all. He’s dead meat, Ellie. Bones buried six foot under. I’m here, warm and alive – I had to make you see me.’
Ellie stood pinned against the side of the utility, her eyes sharp with disgust. ‘You didn’t have to rape me to do that,’ she yelled. Her voice rose higher and higher until it echoed around the yard. ‘Yes, Charlie. You raped me. Had your way with me – took me by force. There’s a lot of ways of describing it, but you can’t dress it up nicely. It’s a dirty word for a dirty act and it’s the last time you touch me.’
‘Shut up,’ he hissed. ‘Shut up or I’ll...’
He fell silent as Ellie’s expression suddenly changed. Her eyes were wide, her mouth gaping. The colour had bleached from her face and there was a blue tinge to her lips. ‘Ellie?’ he shouted, frantic that somehow he’d really hurt her this time.
Ellie’s eyes rolled back and she fell limp in his embrace.
Charlie was turning to look behind him when the fist came from nowhere, smashing into his face, cracking his nose, showering his lips with the warmth of his own blood.
Ellie slid from his arms and crumpled to the ground as strong hands flung him away from her.
Stunned and bloody he looked up and met another punch that jarred his jaw and loosened his teeth. He staggered, the sight before him so bizarre he thought he must be hallucinating. As he blinked he caught another punch on the cheekbone that resounded right through him. The fear was acid in his throat, the spectre too awful to contemplate as another punch sent him reeling. He lost his balance and fell into the dirt. ‘No,’ he gasped. ‘No. You’re not real.’
‘I’m real enough. Get up and fight you mongrel.’ Joe stood before him, his dark hair raven in the sun, his green eyes arctic.
Charlie put up his hands to shield his damaged face as he crawled away from his nemesis. ‘You’re dead. You’re dead,’ he moaned in endless repetition as something clicked and slid sideways in his mind.
Rough hands dragged him to his feet, fingers tight on his collar, almost choking him. ‘Believe it you bastard. Wanna pick on someone your own size for a change? Show us what a real man you are?’ Joe hissed. ‘Come on Charlie. Let’s see what you’re made of when it ain’t a girl yer bullying.’ He let go of the collar and pushed Charlie away.
Charlie wiped the snot and the blood from his face. His vision was blurred, the fear of seeing his dead twin still clouding his judgement – but the rage was so great he didn’t give himself time to think. He brought up his fists as he rocked on his feet and took another two deft punches in the gut as his upper-cut scythed fruitlessly through the air. Winded he fell back against the utility. There had to be something he could do to beat the bastard – to get rid of him once and for all – but how to stop a ghost? How to fight the demon that had always shadowed him?
He caught sight of the wood Ellie had been chopping and snatched up a tree branch. It was about the length of a club and weighed heavy in his hand. He bent double, feigning a pain in his gut so h
e could catch his breath, then as the toe of Joe’s boot came into sight he used the last of his strength to whip the heavy wooden club in a vicious upward arc. It connected with the side of Joe’s head with a satisfying thud, and Charlie thought he heard the crack of bone. He shook the sweat from his eyes and leaned against the utility, his chest heaving from the effort it had taken and the pain it had caused. ‘That good enough for ya?’ he yelled as Joe went sprawling in the dirt.
Ellie must have come to during the fight, for her screams pierced right through his throbbing head. ‘You’ve killed him,’ she screamed. ‘You’ve killed Joe.’
‘Nnno,’ he stammered as he tried to focus on his brother’s still figure. ‘Just knocked him out.’ He fell to his knees and tried to reach him, but there were people swarming from the native humpies, running from the verandah and barns who shoved him out of the way, blocking off his view of Joe – leaving him isolated and more afraid than he’d ever been.
The fear grew. It was copper on his tongue, hammering in his ribs as the sweat turned cold and blood congealed on his face. Thoughts and emotions whirled, darkness tore through him as incoherent flashes of something twisted ran through the canyons of his mind. He reached out and tried to touch his twin. ‘Joe?’ he sobbed. ‘Joe. Wake up. I didn’t mean it.’
Ellie flew at him, nails clawed as she went for his face. ‘You’ve killed my Joe,’ she shrieked. ‘You’ve killed your own brother.’ She pounded his chest as he tried to shield himself from her attack.
‘I didn’t mean to,’ he stammered. ‘It was an accident. He’s not real. He can’t be real.’
‘Get out,’ Ellie screamed. ‘Get out and don’t ever come back.’
Charlie cowered from the ferocity of her attack as Alicia and Aurelia struggled to get her away from him. He saw how the rest of the people of Warratah eyed him with loathing and knew he had to leave this place he’d once dreamed of owning. He shivered as he thought of a life-time in prison. Trembled in the coldness of their glares. He had never felt so alone.
‘Go,’ yelled Ellie. ‘I hope you rot in hell for what you’ve done. You’ll never see your baby. Never know it. I’ll make sure of that.’
Charlie got to his feet and tried to clear his head of the darkness whirling there. He became aware of the man standing beside him and flinched as his hand touched his shoulder.
‘There’s nothing here for you, Charlie,’ said Jack as Wang Lee dropped down next to Joe and ran expert hands over him. ‘But because of what you did for Mickey’s son I’m giving you ten minutes to pack up and leave before I call the police.’
17
The sun was setting as horse and rider reached the plateau of the guardian hills that surrounded Warratah and Charlie couldn’t resist one last look at the land that had so nearly been his. His head throbbed and one eye was almost closed, but he ignored the searing pain in his side and trawled the sprawling acres that seemed to stretch to infinity. The homestead looked so small from here, the scurrying figures like ants. It was as if Warratah was diminishing as he watched – growing distant and ethereal in the orange glow of sunset like a beautiful dream he’d once had.
Ellie was down there. The girl he’d loved and wanted with as much passion as the need for somewhere to call home. The tears rolled down his battered face as he remembered her final, brutal words. Remembered the hatred in her brown eyes that he’d thought had once looked upon him with affection. ‘I really did love you,’ he whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’ Yet a part of him knew that Warratah had meant more to him, for it had become a symbol of victory over his brother – a victory that now rang as hollow as a death knell.
Charlie sat there until darkness threw a veil over the lush pastures. The raucous laughter of a pair of territorial kookaburras seemed to mock him as he turned his horse towards the northern boundaries of Warratah for the last time. He had no plans – no idea of where he was going. The only awareness he had was the haunting whisper that sifted through his mind. ‘You’re the bad seed. You killed your brother. You killed a part of yourself.’
Charlie slumped in the saddle, turning within himself as the darkness filtered into his mind and echoed its torment. The image of his twin was bright flashes in that darkness, the spectral shadow of him following just out of reach and out of sight – yet he knew he was there. Knew he would haunt him for the rest of his days.
*
The sand storm had blown up with little warning. It swept across the empty miles of deep red earth in the Northern Territory hunting down anything in its path.
Charlie had spent several months riding aimlessly across the state lines of Western Australia, through the Northern Territory into Queensland and back again. He’d found work on some of the isolated stations, but somehow could never settle – could never find a point of contact with the other men. He knew they thought him strange. Knew they regarded him as something of an enigma. Yet he’d had to keep himself isolated, for no one must know he was a wanted man.
He spent his days looking over his shoulder and his nights dreaming of gunfire and sniper bullets that were interspersed with ghostly images of his twin and Ellie. He found these dreams confusing and very frightening and had become aware of a strangeness within himself as reality seemed to slip from his grasp and leave him in a void of great darkness that was growing increasingly difficult to escape from each time it happened.
He was aware of the darkening sky. Aware of the sudden drop in the wind and the stillness that heralded the approaching storm. Yet the dull pain in his head was all-encompassing and he rode on heedless of the danger. The doctors at the army hospital had warned him this might happen. The bullet fragment was moving – he could feel it – time was running out and he welcomed death.
He finally looked up at the yellow sky and the dark red bruise of the storm’s approach. Swinging down from the saddle he slapped the animal’s hindquarters and sent it galloping back the way they had come. Then he stood and faced the maelstrom, arms outstretched, daring it to take him.
‘Look at me, Joe,’ he shouted into the gathering darkness. ‘Watch me ride the wind!’
The dust came first. Choking, blinding, swirling and buffeting him until he could barely stand. He closed his eyes, palms open to the sky as the wind tore down on him and whirled him into the vortex of its fury. He was finally free. Flying like the great eagles that soared above this land he loved – and in the blink of one glorious golden eye he knew he would never be tied to the earth again.
18
Claire took a long, shuddering sigh and stood up. ‘I need to be alone,’ she muttered. She walked into the hall and, pushing through the screen door, stepped on to the verandah. Dawn was chasing away the shadows on home yard, bringing light and warmth to Jarrah. Yet the shadows that remained within her were remorseless and chilling. The perfume of flowers and dewed grass a mockery.
Her emotions were in turmoil as she stepped into the yard, yet her feet seemed to know where she had to go. Unaware she’d left her shoes behind, Claire stumbled around the homestead and waded through the long grass. The picket fence still needed mending. The wild flowers and ivy still covered that lonely grave in the corner.
CHARLIE PEARSON
1918 – 1946
YEA, HE DID FLY UPON THE WINGS OF THE WIND
Psalm 18
She knelt beside the head-stone and wondered if she was like her father, and what she’d have thought of him if they’d met. Yet in her heart she could only despise him. For he had brought a curse on Jarrah and Warratah – a curse that had almost destroyed her mother and everything Claire had known. No wonder he’d been banished to this distant corner.
Turning her back on his last resting place she looked out at Jarrah as the sun brought colour and light to the bluestone homestead. The birds were singing, the crickets rustling, even a few flies hummed in the grass. The outbuildings were coming alive with the sound of men rising from their beds for a new day, and smoke was drifting from the cookhouse chimney. Horses
dozed beneath the trees and the remaining blue heelers were stretching and yawning in the kennels. She had once loved this place almost as much as Warratah. But now she hated it. There were too many shadows lurking here – shadows that would always come from that silent grave-stone – shadows that perhaps reflected flaws within herself. For his legacy to her was unknown.
As she pushed through the gate she was suddenly filled with a sense of purpose. Crossing the yard she checked the fuel and climbed into the utility. Within moments she had left Jarrah behind her and was heading across the plains. She was in search of peace of mind – freedom – and the strength to forgive. For until she’d found all three, she couldn’t return to Jarrah. Couldn’t hear the rest of the story. And there was more – she knew it as surely as night would follow day. For there was still the question of her ownership of Jarrah.
*
Leanne kissed Angel’s cheek before she stood and stretched. She was still in shock, yet she burned to know why Mickey Maughan had willed Jarrah to Claire. Eyeing the crumpled Ellie she realised this was not the time. They were all exhausted.
She ran her fingers through her hair and tried to bring some sense to her jumbled thoughts. Claire had to be devastated, and she wondered how it must feel to suddenly learn you weren’t who you thought you were. That you were the consequence of rape. Her animosity suddenly felt petty, the words she’d spat with such venom shameful. She’d hurt the people who mattered most, and she wished she could take back those awful words. She lit a cigarette and put it out. It tasted foul and she had a headache lurking. Staring out of the window at the early morning she once again saw how beautiful it was. But that was the magic of Jarrah.
Leanne’s thoughts were jumbled as she tried to make sense of everything she’d heard tonight. ‘I suspected something was wrong four years ago,’ she said into the silence. ‘And that photograph I took. It wasn’t all it seemed.’ She glanced over her shoulder at Ellie who was wiping away tears. ‘When I looked at it closely I realised why Claire asked questions.’
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