The Currency Lass

by Téa Cooper

  As always a steady stream of prospectors choked the track heading for the flats, determined they’d make their fortune. The population had jumped to well over five thousand, bringing bigger and bigger audiences. The longer he spent amongst the gold diggers, the less convinced he became. Sure there was gold but not everyone struck it rich. Rudi had the right idea. They were making more money supplying entertainment, raking it in the same as the wretched storekeepers. Perhaps Rudi was also right when he’d said that this was the environment that would attract the bloody weasel responsible for Nikolas’s death. A chance to rip people off, play his rotten games. Tomorrow he’d take a ride into the town, although it could hardly be called that, and have a look around. Rumour had it there’d be a post office before long and they’d started work on a hotel to add to the collection of stores and sly grog shops springing up. Even come up with a name for the place—Sofala—after some gold-trading town in Africa.

  He shaded his eyes and gazed beyond the trail of people, most of them on foot, some with handcarts but no one on horseback. No Catherine, no Timmy. The circus horses had to be the only horses in the Turon, worth their weight in gold.

  Sauntering down the road away from the camp he rounded the bend towards the town. How foolish to haunt the road. Catherine would return in her own good time and Timmy would keep her safe. He might be small with his frail frame but his head was screwed on.

  Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a plume of dust on the road. The circus horses wouldn’t be the only ones on the goldfields for long. People didn’t kick up that kind of dust. Horses did, and fast moving ones at that.

  His gut kicked as he peered into the cloud. Catherine and Timmy were back and before dark. Without a doubt her pockets would be lined and she’d make Tilly happy. No one could withstand Catherine when she set her mind to something.

  He raised his hand and squinted into the setting sun. No. Not Catherine and Timmy. More than two horses. Four, four at least and being ridden quickly.

  A flash of bright blue brought a grin to his face.

  Valentina!

  At long last. Rudi would be beside himself, and more relieved than he’d ever let on. The promise he’d made to Batya to look out for them, keep them together, had become the cornerstone of his existence.

  Valentina pulled over to the edge of the track and rose tall on her horse, waving her arms like a banshee. The seething mass froze, mouths gaping open as she belted down the road and ground to halt in front of him, Tsarina rearing on her hind legs, scattering the gobsmacked crowd.

  Tonight they’d play to a packed tent, no doubt about it. That little escapade alone would draw more people to the circus than any bill or flyer. He reached out and grabbed hold of the bridle and brought Tsarina down with a jerk, a spark of anger igniting the fear for Valentina’s safety that he’d kept hidden. ‘Where the hell have you been?’

  ‘Hello. It’s lovely to see you, too. I was expecting a slightly more effusive welcome.’ She slipped down into his arms.

  ‘I’m thrilled to see you.’ He spun her around to assure himself she was unharmed. ‘Dan, Hawke, thanks for keeping my sister safe. But what are you doing here?’

  The two strongmen exchanged a quizzical look and winked. It brought him up short. What had Valentina been up to? ‘Which way did you come? Why are you travelling in from the east?’

  She struggled out of his arms and smoothed her hair. ‘It’s a long story and one I need to tell only once. Where’s the camp? And where’s Rudi?’

  ‘Just a mile or so up the road. A nice flat piece of land that’s been christened Circus Point.’

  ‘What are you doing here? Out on the track?’

  ‘Waiting for Catherine.’

  ‘Catherine?’

  So much had happened since they had left Sydney. Valentina had no idea that Catherine even existed, never mind that she’d stolen his heart as well as Valentina’s place in the ring. More of that later. ‘Another long story. We’ve some catching up to do.’

  With a regal wave to the assembled gawkers, Valentina tucked herself under his arm and urged him forward. ‘What time is the performance tonight?’

  ‘Eight o’clock, same as always. More to the point, how did you know we were here? Did they tell you in Maitland?’

  ‘We haven’t been anywhere near Maitland.’

  ‘Why not?’ Where had she been and what on earth had she been doing? He frowned down at her. ‘This is beginning to sound as though it’s a very long story.’

  ‘Then let’s get to the camp as soon as we can.’

  News travelled fast in the goldfields and before they’d covered half the distance to Circus Point a thundering drumbeat, tin whistles and Fred’s scratchy violin filled the air. Dan and Hawke lapped up every moment, singling out any woman who came across their path for their own brand of muscle-rippling flattery.

  The band’s racket stilled when Dan hoisted Hawke onto his broad shoulders way above the crowds. ‘Show opens tonight at eight sharp. Half a crown’ll get you a front-row seat. See the delightful performance of the beautiful Russian Princess, Valentina, and her Arabian, Tsarina.’

  Becky and Jacky slipped in next to Valentina, their eyes agog and their bare feet bouncing down the track.

  ‘Quite a reception. Perhaps you did miss me.’

  ‘We missed you, Valentina.’ But managed. Exactly how he would explain Catherine didn’t bear thinking about. Valentina would do one of two things: welcome Catherine with open arms or throw a tantrum. There’d be no middle ground. Perhaps it was as well Catherine was in Bathurst. The last thing he wanted was his big sister in a decline because she believed another woman had usurped her lofty position. He’d have to tread gently.

  ‘Rudi!’ Valentina wrenched away and threw herself into Rudi’s arms.

  He clasped her in a bear hug and swung her around before planting a loud kiss on her cheek. ‘Where have you been, my heart?’ Rudi shot a look in his direction.

  ‘I’ll tell my story when we are inside the tent, Rudi. It is not for all these ears.’ She waved blithely at the ogling stream of children and new arrivals and made for Rudi’s tent. ‘Do you have any of that fiery rum you favour? I’ve earned a drink, maybe four.’

  Rudi bustled into the tent and fussed around, pulling up a chair next to his and opening one of the bottles of rum he guarded so closely. ‘Come. Sit. You too, Sergey.’

  Once they were settled Rudi looked expectantly at Valentina. ‘So …’

  ‘First I must confess I wasn’t entirely honest with you, either of you.’ A faint and unusual hint of colour stole across her cheeks. ‘I didn’t leave Sydney as early as I intended.’

  Rudi took a long slug of rum and emitted a noise somewhere between a growl and a belch. Knowing better than to interrupt, Sergey crossed his arms and waited.

  ‘There was a man in Sydney.’

  No doubt this time. Rudi’s growl became positively threatening. Perhaps it hadn’t been his brightest move to keep Valentina’s rendezvous a secret but he’d never been able to say no to his big sister. Thankfully no harm had come to her; in fact she was positively glowing. Love could do that for a person. He ran his hand down his face. Would Valentina notice a difference in him?

  She lifted her hand, palm outwards and smiled. ‘My curiosity was aroused. The man reminded me of someone and yes, Rudi, I encouraged his advances, but please, listen. It’s all for the best. He paid attentive court to me and invited me to his home, a magnificent place in Macquarie Street; you remember those palatial houses we saw? At first I thought I’d made a mistake. I couldn’t find anything to make me believe he was the man he reminded me of.’

  ‘Valentina, if this is simply to make me angry you have achieved your aim. Stop.’

  Sergey clamped his teeth together and clenched his fists, waiting. Trouble followed Valentina wherever she went and her games were enough to drive anyone crazy. ‘At least tell us who this man reminded you of.’

  A smug smile stole across her
face. She slid her hand down inside the neckline of her dress and pulled out a bundle of papers and put them on the table, then delved into her pocket.

  Rudi reached for the papers but Valentina slammed her hand down on his. ‘No. Wait. It’s my story and I’ll tell it my way. Patience, Rudi.’

  ‘And then there was this.’ Valentina opened her other hand, her eyes sparkling, and Sergey’s heart sank.

  ‘Valentina, you promised me. Promised Rudi, that you had put this affliction behind you.’

  Her laugh pealed. ‘It’s very pretty, isn’t it? She slipped the large blue ring onto her third finger and turned her hand backwards and forwards, the light catching the facets of the square-cut sapphire.

  Damn Valentina and her passion for baubles. She was like some bowerbird, snatching anything bright and shiny, preferably blue, that caught her fancy and it had come to this. Sitting in the middle of some godforsaken goldfield no closer to the bastard who framed Nikolas while his sister satisfied her itchy fingers.

  ‘Where did you get it?’ He snapped.

  ‘I found it. In a drawer.’

  It was enough to make him want to throttle her. ‘It just fell onto your finger, I suppose, like last time and the time before and the time before.’ There were days when he missed the life they’d led on the farm before they’d moved to Hobart and Valentina’s passion for all things shiny became a liability. He lifted his hand to his face and wiped away the distant memory. It was too late now for recriminations.

  With a glance at him Valentina foraged in her pockets again and pulled out a large coin, and placed it on the table. Then she peeled off and unfolded one of the pieces of paper and held it close to her chest. ‘These are my gifts to you both. My way of thanking you for keeping me safe.’

  The air inside the small tent thickened and Sergey’s heart struck up a strange tattoo, his ears pounding. She held out the coin, the sapphire ring glinting on her finger.

  Sergey snatched the coin away before Rudi could reach it.

  He peered at it and ran his finger over the bent edge of the Spanish dubloon. A cold shiver traced his spine. ‘Where did you get it?’ Even to his ears his voice sounded as though it came from miles away.

  It did.

  From the past.

  ‘You found him?’ He unclasped his fist and dangled the coin above the table in his finger and thumb.

  ‘Sergey, give it to me.’

  With a strange reluctance and more from habit than desire he handed the coin to Rudi.

  Valentina had found him. The missing Spanish doubloon that had so intrigued the judge, and the ring that matched the earbobs and the broach found in Nikolas’s coat pocket. The first tangible proof that their search was not in vain.

  A whistle sneaked through Rudi’s lips. ‘It seems you have achieved more than either Sergey or I managed.’

  And she had. She’d set them on a course that could see the end to the frustrating years of dead ends and blind corners. His head cleared. ‘Where is he?’ he repeated.

  ‘Here in the goldfields. At least that was what I was led to believe. We didn’t part amicably.’

  ‘Start at the beginning. Valentina.’

  ‘And don’t stop until you get to the end.’ Rudi poured another slug of rum for each of them as Valentina settled back in the chair, twirling the ring on her finger.

  By the time Catherine and Timmy reached Bathurst the sun had set behind the town. The twenty miles had taken them many frustrating hours; the roads clogged with determined fortune seekers loath to let them pass.

  They clopped down the main street of the thriving supply town. Its streets ran in a simple grid-like pattern, half-finished buildings lining either side, testimony to the influx of business the discovery of gold had made to the town. Timber-fronted stores and new brick buildings stood cheek by jowl, even a hospital that would have set Pa’s eyes afire with promise.

  ‘Heads up.’ Timmy reined his horse in and pointed to a coach and four standing outside an impressive square stone building on the corner of the two main streets. ‘That must be the mail coach. They said there’s one that runs to Sydney most days. Faster than anything. They change horses every twenty miles or so. Pretty bloody uncomfortable though, because of the speed. Passengers end up blue, covered in bruises.’

  A man appeared, heaving a large trunk, and the building’s door closed behind him. He strapped the box onto the seat and climbed up beside it then flicked his whip and with a squeak and a squeal the well-sprung coach surged forward.

  ‘Get a load of that.’ Timmy pointed at the building where the coach had stood. A sign on the upper storey wall proclaimed The Union Bank of Australia.

  ‘The bank.’ Catherine’s heart thumped. ‘I didn’t know you could read, Timmy.’

  ‘Can’t. Just take a look at the bars on them windows. You’d need bars like that to keep the gold safe. That’s what the mail coach’s carrying, I’ll bet. Gold. Lots of it. It’ll be headed for Sydney. Bushrangers’ll have a field day.

  ‘Quite right. Here, you take the horses and wait for me.’

  With her heart pounding Catherine pulled down her jacket and marched to the front door of the impressive building. It was strong and solid, matching the bank’s ability to look after their customers and their new-found wealth.

  The polished door had no handle; she pushed against the heavy cedar, then hammered with both fists. There had to be someone inside to lock the door behind the coach driver. Then her gaze lit on a small rectangular frame on the right of the door. Opening Hours 9.00 to 2.00 Monday to Friday.

  In her mad flight from Circus Point, she’d been so keen to sort out Tilly’s money, she hadn’t given a thought to opening hours. Scuffing the toe of her boot against the sandstone step she let out a huge sigh. Turning to face Timmy she shook her head and walked back towards the horses. ‘It’s closed. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning at nine.’

  ‘That’s no bloody good. How can they be closed when all the other shops and businesses are still open? That bloke just came out.’

  ‘It’s my fault. I hadn’t thought about it.’ De Silva was right, she had a lot to learn; her experience dwelt in the confines of Cottington Hill. ‘Perhaps banking hours are different.’ She slipped her foot into the stirrup and grimaced at the state of her boots.

  All in all it wasn’t such a problem. She threw her dirty moleskinclad leg over the saddle. If she went into the bank dressed in her working clothes no one would take her seriously. She’d find somewhere to stay for the night and unpack her riding costume from the roll behind her saddle. Without Mrs Duffen to look after her clothes, she’d have to let the creases hang out overnight, maybe she’d even have a bath.

  She smiled at the thought of such luxury. She loved her life with the circus, it had so many delights to offer, but bathing wasn’t one of them. Since they’d arrived she’d made do with the Turon River, up stream of the diggings where the water was cleaner though still contaminated by the hundreds of bodies who used it for every conceivable activity.

  They walked the horses down the road, passed several churches and a post office until a swinging sign announcing The Royal Hotel appeared ahead of them.

  ‘Let’s stop here.’

  Clattering to a halt she slithered from Bessie’s back and handed the reins to Timmy. ‘I’ll go and see if they have a couple of rooms. I don’t know about you but I’m starving.’ And filthy dirty but Timmy probably didn’t want to hear about her needs.

  ‘Food would be great. Don’t worry about a room. I’ll not be leaving the horses. I’ll sleep in the stables.’

  ‘Timmy, you need a decent night’s rest. You’ve been busy since the crack of dawn …’

  He held up his hand. ‘No, Miss. Not my place and besides, the animals need me. These two horses are better than most people will clap eyes on in a lifetime and I ain’t having anyone lay a hand near ’em ’cepting me.’

  ‘Fair enough. Thank you. I’ll arrange to have some food sent out to
you. I’d like to be at the bank as soon as it opens tomorrow.’ She walked into the hotel, waiting until her eyes adjusted to the gloom before approaching the formidable woman behind the desk.

  Sixteen

  A tight band wrapped around Sergey’s chest as Valentina’s words held him captive. She’d found him. After five years she’d succeeded where he’d failed.

  ‘He was in one of the front boxes at the circus for most of the evening shows in Sydney. His eyes followed my every move. After each performance he sent a note. Pretty notes, beautifully written—both the words and the handwriting. Sometimes they were accompanied by flowers, a small gift or an invitation. It wasn’t until our last performance in Sydney that I finally accepted.’

  ‘What made you do that?’ Rudi scowled at Valentina. ‘Every man’s eyes are constantly upon you. What made it different this time?’

  Valentina picked at the white fur on her collar. ‘I had the opportunity to study him more closely when Sergey invited the lady with the golden hair into the ring. He rose and encouraged her.’

  ‘Catherine.’ Sergey’s lips formed the word. The first time he’d set eyes on her. He had been too besotted to give any more than a passing glance to her companion.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Valentina turned to him and frowned.

  He shook his head in response. ‘Continue.’ He’d tell Valentina about Catherine when she’d finished her own story. There was something in her eyes, an intensity and a look of triumph that showed there was more to come. He knew his sister well enough to wait. He wanted nothing to distract her.

  ‘It was the way he walked. The slight stoop combined with a strutting gait, bouncing on the balls of his feet, like a tiny bantam rooster who likes to believe he rules the hen house.’