‘I love my Peanut,’ Flossy said sadly. Her grip loosened, but her hands remained trapped beneath Abelena’s.
‘You will always love her,’ Abelena agreed. ‘Now duck your head under the water.’
Will’s mother dropped down until the water was level with her shoulders. Her hair floated on the surface, grey-brown strands growing heavy with moisture. Flossy shivered. ‘Are you coming too?’
‘Of course.’ The river water caressed their limbs as Flossy sunk tentatively beneath the surface. ‘It is time to let go of her, Flossy,’ Abelena whispered as she too sunk into the murky depths.
For the briefest of moments the two women stared at each other, at their cloudy outlines and fluttering hair. They were linked by the jar which appeared suspended between them, an opaque vessel between grasping hands. Abelena was thinking of Serena, of the children left behind after her mother’s death and the fine line between the mad and the sane. The woman opposite her should have been blessed with children. She was as fine a mother as any could be.
Flossy’s face contorted in pain as Abelena unscrewed the lid on the pickle jar. The baby floated away.
Chapter 57
September, 1935 – en route to The Plains, Southern Queensland
Tobias and Constable Maine left the lock-up and mounted their horses.
‘It’s a good hour’s ride to the Todd farm,’ the constable said wearily. He had already suggested waiting until morning and had offered to drive Tobias back to Condamine Station. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to take the car?’
‘I’m sure.’ Tobias would rather be on horseback. If they needed to give chase, the car would be of little help to them in the bush. ‘Let’s get this done,’ he replied. They trotted up the main street, the horse’s hoofs loud in the evening quiet. A single street lamp lit their path. Insects buzzed about the welcoming glow. The mare he rode was called Marigold and belonged to the constable. It seemed a ridiculous name for a horse until he got a sense of the animal under him. Marigold would rather dawdle than move, rather twitch and whinny than take heed of his spurs.
‘I would have thought you’d have got Wes to handle this,’ the constable commented. ‘He’s used to this type of thing.’
‘So am I,’ Tobias said curtly. ‘Wes used to join my father and I when we were chasing outlaws in Oklahoma. Kirkland’s able enough but his stories don’t always match fact.’
‘Is that so? He told me he was with your father for quite a few years before you left Dallas. I got the impression he’d been riding with your father’s sheriff friend long before that.’
‘C’mon,’ Tobias said impatiently, twitching the reins. The constable was right, of course, there was no need to be out at this hour, but Tobias couldn’t stand to go back to the homestead. He’d spent the last few days in limbo. An outsider on land that should have been his. He couldn’t understand his father’s actions.
Why had Edmund gone out of his way to show Wes such favouritism? Granted, his old friend had been managing the place for a decade but Wes had been well paid for his services. Leaving the property to him was a poor business decision and it reduced Tobias’s assets considerably. Oh, he still had the newspaper and the textile mills and the house block in Oklahoma City, and the substantial monies that rightly belonged to Abelena, and added together his share was no doubt greater than Wes’s. But that wasn’t the point. Why should Wes Kirkland be given what should have rightfully belonged to Tobias? Condamine Station had been his father’s dream and Tobias had taken hold of it, intending to make it his own.
‘Marcus Todd’s always been straight. I can’t believe he’s got caught up in this business.’
‘Times are hard for people, Constable, not that that’s an excuse.’
‘He served his country in the war, you know, came back wounded.’ Constable Maine clucked his tongue. ‘And that poor wife of his. She’s gone mad. Dr Webb says she’s had too many miscarriages, but the last one, well, I wouldn’t have believed it if the doctor hadn’t told me himself.’
‘Told you what?’
‘She thinks the baby lived.’ He glanced at Tobias. ‘She keeps it in a pickle jar.’
Tobias tugged the reins. Marigold obeyed the command to stop immediately. ‘What did you say?’
‘It’s true.’ The constable kept moving and Tobias urged the lethargic mare to follow. It took all of his concentration not to dwell on the image that had been planted in his head.
‘Stevens said Todd was overdue on a delivery. He may well have decided to end the business.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Tobias disagreed. ‘My father always said that when a man gets a taste for wrong-doing it’s nearly impossible for them to stop.’
‘It’s almost too dark.’ The constable kept to the middle of the dirt road. Overhead, a sliver of moon hung in the sky.
They had wasted the afternoon questioning the shopkeeper, Mr Stevens. The man was out delivering orders when they arrived at the general store after lunch and it was two hours before he returned. Stevens’s guilt showed itself in profuse sweating, a condition not helped by the stuffy confines of the police station and a line of questioning that afforded him no way out.
‘I still have my doubts about the Todd boy being involved in the stock-theft on your property.’
The bush surrounded them. Tobias felt hemmed in, claustrophobic. He was not used to trees and shrub, the open plains suited him better and reminded him of Oklahoma. ‘Well, he’s the only connection that we have. He started with us at shearing, which according to Stevens is about the same time that he took up Marcus Todd’s offer of the stolen meat.’
‘You and I both know that those sheep could have been lifted anytime before shearing.’
‘My leading hand, Evan Crawley, believes there’s a link to the Todds.’
‘Does he?’ The constable didn’t sound convinced.
An hour later they trotted through the boundary gate to The Plains. They had become accustomed to the dark. Indistinct outlines were now trees and fence-lines. Moving shapes were kangaroos and foxes. The rutted road led them straight to a modest timber house, no light showed within. The constable dismounted and knocked at the door. Knocked again.
‘There’s no-one here.’
‘What about the wife?’
The older man hesitated. Tobias pushed past him and opened the door. In the kitchen he lit a kerosene lamp and investigated the house. The main living room was neat and tidy, the two bedrooms a mess. Clothes were strewn everywhere and there was a stench in one bedroom that went beyond the unwashed.
‘She’s not here either. They must have found out we were on to them,’ Tobias decided.
Outside on the verandah Tobias swung the lamp left and right. At one end of the porch was a rope and chain, on the ground beneath, a darkness. He touched the soil, sniffed his fingers. ‘So much for your war hero.’
‘Now what?’ The constable picked at something crusty in his nose.
Tobias turned the lamp down, it flickered and went out. ‘We can see more out here without this.’
They listened to the horses as they snuffled, to a cow mooing. The north-westerly wind rustled the branches of nearby trees. Then they heard it. It was faint, some distance away but recognisable; a dog bark.
‘Who lives in that direction?’
‘There’s an old bloke on the other side of the river,’ the constable told him, ‘but no-one ever sees him. He purchased a block of land and a house from a soldier-settler that went broke a good ten years ago.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘Next to the Todd farm is the Jenkins’s place. They’re a reasonably sized dairy and after that it’s your land, Mr Wade.’
‘Mine?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Tobias put his foot in the stirrup and swung up onto Marigold’s back. ‘How convenient for the Todds. Do they have a dog?’
‘This is the bush, mate. Everyone has a dog. Where are you going?’
‘To the river.’
‘Stay here then,’ Tobias ordered, ‘on the off-chance that the woman with the pickle jar returns.’ He spurred Marigold to wakefulness.
‘They’ll return. Stealing sheep isn’t a hanging offence.’
‘Pity,’ Tobias sniffed. ‘Well, which way?’
‘Head behind the house. When you come to the timber, just ride on through it. There’ll be a track of some sort but you won’t find it in the dark, just try to keep heading straight and you’ll eventually come to the river. When you do, turn right.’ The constable shook his head. ‘And don’t go getting lost. I’ll be here when you get back.’
Chapter 58
September, 1935 – on the bank of the Condamine River, Southern Queensland
Abelena knelt by Flossy’s side. She pushed on the woman’s chest, trying to release the water that had surged into her lungs, and slapped her face in the hope of stirring her back to life. She had dragged the woman from the river unconscious after diving underwater twice to tug her to the surface, and she now worked frantically to revive her. Abelena didn’t think it would be like this. Will’s mother fought like an animal to be with her lost child. She scratched and bit, kicked and thrashed, leaving bloody welts on Abelena’s arms and face. Only striking the grieving mother had stopped Flossy but now the woman’s skin was white, her lips tinged blue and she had swallowed so much water that death was near.
Abelena knew she should feel remorse for what she had done; that guilt should be coursing through her veins. She may not have agreed with Will’s treatment of his mother, but initially he had been an unwilling participant in Abelena’s plan to run away and now she had led him to believe that they had a future together. She had tried to do good for Flossy’s sake, but the woman’s death would leave Will without a mother, and Abelena was all too aware how much the poorer Will’s life would be if he lost Flossy. Abelena had repaid Will’s efforts to help her with selfishness. A selfishness that sprang from her need to escape from Tobias. A selfish need to save a woman who’d been forgotten, who’d been taken for granted by her family. Abelena had not been able to save her own mother, so she’d tried to save Will’s, and this was the result.
As she continued to press down on Flossy’s chest, all Abelena could think about was what would happen if the woman died. Images of Jerome bound to a chair convulsing from electrical currents filled her with dread. No-one would listen to her if Flossy died. No-one would care to hear the truth. Why would they?
‘What the hell?’
Wes Kirkland pushed Abelena roughly away. She sprawled in the dirt. ‘You fool!’ Abelena screamed. She crawled across the sand, intent on saving Will’s mother, but Wes was shoving her out of the way, warning her that if she moved again he would harm her. He levelled the rifle he held at her head. Across the river, sheep were calling through the night.
‘She was drowning, I pulled her from the water!’ Abelena yelled. Beside her the baby eagle began to cry.
‘Sure you were,’ Wes countered, leaning over the pale woman. ‘Who is she?’
‘Will’s mother,’ Abelena told him. ‘Please, Wes, let me help her.’
‘It looks like you’ve done enough helping for one day.’ He dragged Flossy across the sand to the base of a tree and propped her against the bark. The movement loosened the liquid lodged within and Flossy coughed and spluttered but did not wake. ‘If she dies, you know what it means, Abelena. Murder is a hanging offence.’ He stared at the wounds on Flossy’s arms where Abelena had tried to restrain her, at the cut lip and thin line of dried blood. His mouth curled in disgust.
Abelena got to her feet, her clothes were sodden. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ she sneered. ‘You’d like to see me dead.’
Wes was distracted by the sounds of the sheep. They were closer now. As if a mob was being moved along the river. ‘What I’d like is for none of you Wade women to have ever been born. Half-breeds,’ he spat in the dirt, ‘you don’t mean nothing to no-one and you never will.’
‘Well, it seems you’re wrong, because Tobias chose me over you, didn’t he?’
‘The best thing the government ever did was to force you Injuns onto reservations, the next best thing was to take that land away from you and give it to honest white folk who were prepared to work for a living. The execution of your brother was icing on the cake.’
Abelena felt as if her chest would burst. She fingered the pouch at her neck and then ran at Wes, scratching at his face, at his arms. Her teeth found the lobe of his ear and she bit down, hard.
Wes screamed and wrapped his hands about her neck. Abelena felt the air begin to leave her body. Her brain grew hazy.
She didn’t hear the great eagle swoop from the thickness of trees behind her, did not understand how air was suddenly able to surge down into her lungs as she fell to her knees, coughing and gasping. As she lay in the dirt, her hands resting on her ravaged neck, Abelena turned to see the great eagle attacking Wes. The bird’s wings were outstretched, and the razor-sharp talons ripped and tore as the overseer tried without success to fight the bird off. The eagle screeched and flapped and finally Wes fell to the ground, his hands flaying in defence, as the eagle straddled him and in one deft movement pecked out an eye.
The man’s screams jolted Abelena and she struggled to her feet. ‘Stop!’ she commanded.
To her surprise, the wedge-tail backed away.
Across the river she heard men’s voices. Two figures appeared on horseback on the opposite bank. They walked their mounts carefully down the gentle slope and urged their horses through the shallows, veering left and right as they followed a submerged sandbar, the water rising to the girth-straps on their saddles before they emerged from the river only feet away.
Abelena recognised only one of the two riders, the full-bearded man, Evan. She imagined how they must look. She, sitting in the dirt with the wedge-tail eagle and its baby beside her, and Flossy lolling against the tree; alive or dead, she didn’t know.
Wes was calling out in pain, his left eye a bloody hole, his ear bleeding profusely. He scrabbled in the dirt for the rifle and then used the gun to lever himself upwards. He was clearly in shock for his body was shaking and he kept turning his head as if trying to see out of his gored eye. Blood was gushing down his cheek and staining his shirt but he steadied himself and focused on the two men. ‘You’re meant to be dead!’
Evan, flabbergasted by the scene before him, turned to his companion. ‘Well, Hocking? What do you think of that?’
The man got down from his saddle and limped towards Wes. ‘You left me that way, Wes, but sometimes wanting something doesn’t automatically make it happen.’ He poked at Wes’s rifle with his own and the overseer lost his balance and fell.
Hocking chuckled and turned to Abelena. ‘And you’re Philomena’s kin? I never met the woman but everyone said she was a beauty. I see you’ve got her looks.’
‘You’re from Oklahoma?’ Abelena could barely speak, her throat was so sore.
‘Sure am, but then I came over here and got myself a little business going.’
‘What the hell are you doing with him, Evan?’ Wes struggled upright.
‘Repaying a debt owed. Hocking was a mate. You never were.’
‘But you were with me that day,’ the overseer pointed out.
‘I was, and you thought I left Hocking to die to save my own neck, but there were other men there that day.’
Wes groaned, his words were twisted with pain. ‘The blacks.’
‘They saved me,’ Hocking explained, ‘and moved me to a deserted soldier-settler block, which I ended up buying. Sometime later I had a visitor and Evan and I came to an agreement of sorts.’
Evan turned towards Hocking, their complicity forged by friendship. ‘Since then I’ve been working for him. Actually I’m about r
eady to retire.’ He gave a wry smile, clearly amused at his comments.
‘But, you were working for me, you watched me shoot him.’
Evan scratched his beard. ‘In hindsight that wasn’t real friendly of me, but there was no point the both of us dying. Anyway, this is Australia and Hocking was a mate.’
‘So you and he have been in cahoots for ten years?’
The eagle stretched out its wings as if readying for flight. They could hear a horse whinny. There was a creak of leather, the snap of twigs and Tobias rode in from the shadows. He lifted his rifle and cocked it. ‘Interesting conversation,’ he said calmly. ‘What the hell happened to you, Wes?’
‘Don’t ask,’ he grimaced in pain. ‘How much did you hear?’
Tobias’s forehead creased as he surveyed the group. ‘Everything,’ he told Wes. ‘Are you all right, Abelena?’
She nodded and moved to Flossy’s side. The woman was awake, shaky but alive.
‘I feel sick.’ Flossy vomited as the men began arguing.
‘Do you think you can walk?’ Abelena helped the older woman to her feet, leaning her against the tree so that she could return to the remains of the fire, where her few belongings lay. She slipped the knife through her belt and gathered the pillowcase with the herbs and the Apache hide, then she knotted the bag and tied it to the leather about her waist.
On the other side of the river, sheep were spilling down the bank, some stopped to drink, their dipping heads fanning the water in small circles, the majority of the animals raced onwards. Behind them a stockman cracked a whip.
Tobias turned to Hocking. ‘My father expected more of you.’
‘Did he? First Aloysius sends my father broke and he kills himself from the strain, then your father takes all the Wade business away from me. Edmund got what he deserved. As for you, Wes, maybe now you’ll understand that a jumped-up stable boy doesn’t have the right to look down his nose at the likes of me. Doesn’t have the right to think he’s better than me. And shouldn’t ever think that a man can get away with murder.’ Hocking lifted his rifle and levelled the barrel at Wes’s leg. ‘I owe you a limp.’
The Great Plains Page 44