Amy’s Rainbow docked at midday in Suva, and after a quick visit to the bank Danny hurried to Abe’s cottage. Gretel was in the front garden—she’d insisted on a picket fence to keep neighbours’ wandering domestic animals out, so she could have a garden. The climate was too hot for her beloved tulips so she contented herself with bougainvilleas, and an abundance of flowering shrubs including hibiscus, frangipani and oleanders, with smaller native plants in pots that bordered the path to the front door.
‘Gretel, hello.’
‘Oh, Danny,’ Gretel’s eyes began to water as soon as she recognised him. ‘He, Grandfather, is…not well. Verne and Jamie came to see him this morning. Their visit tired him.’
Danny noticed that her cheeks turned pink when she said Verne’s name. Interesting. Was a romance in the winds there? he wondered.
She beckoned him forward. ‘Come inside. I’m going to make some lunch, though Grandfather has no appetite. You will eat too?’
‘You know I can’t resist your cooking,’ he answered warmly. He put his arm around her shoulders in a sympathetic gesture as they walked up the path. ‘What does Dr Singh say?’
She bit her lip to stop it from trembling. ‘He says that Grandfather’s heart is failing and nothing more can be done. It…oh, Danny, it is only a matter of time.’
Danny gave her a hug. ‘I’m so sorry.’ There was no doubting the sincerity in his voice.
A flood of memories assailed him as they walked down the wide hallway to Abe’s bedroom. He remembered clearly the first time he and Abe had met, on a rickety wharf near a native village, and the day he’d dropped the money for the lugger onto Abe’s bed, and everything the old man had taught him about sailing and trading. Danny owed Abe a debt of gratitude that could never be repaid, but he had tried to by being Abe’s friend and, whenever he could, by making his last years as pleasant as possible.
‘Danny, while I prepare lunch, go and sit with him.’
Danny nodded and opened Abe’s bedroom door. He’d halfexpected the room to be shrouded in darkness, the shutters drawn, but that wasn’t so. Abe sat in a padded chair by the window, watching the various activities in the street outside. Danny hid his shock at seeing how much his friend had deteriorated since he’d last visited. The once robust sailing man with his thatch of grey hair had shrunk in size and stature to not much bigger than his granddaughter, yet while he had wrinkles aplenty, his eyes continued to reflect a spark of life.
‘Danny, my boy. Good to see you. Come, sit by me and we’ll talk.’
It was Danny who did most of the talking. He saw well enough that just saying a few words exhausted Abe, and as he talked he sensed that Abe wanted to say something important. Finally, the old man got it out.
‘My race is almost run, Danny. No,’ he shook a shaky index finger at the younger man, ‘don’t try to tell me otherwise. I want you to promise one thing.’ He stopped to catch his breath. ‘After I’m gone, you’ll look after Gretel. She shouldn’t be alone here. There’ll be sufficient funds to send her back to her family in Holland, if she wants to go.’
‘Gretel is a strong-willed woman. After so many years she may not want to return to Holland. You know, she’s settled in quite well.’
Abe’s next remark came as a surprise. ‘I don’t want her to be alone. I’m leaving her the cottage and enough funds to,’ a hacking cough interrupted his words, ‘support herself in a modest fashion.’ Blue eyes locked with Danny’s. ‘You could marry her, my boy. She’s ready for marriage and you like each other. Besides,’ his chuckle was a noticeable wheeze, ‘it’s time you settled down, raised a family of your own.’
Danny blinked several times then wondered how he could possibly answer and not hurt the old man’s feelings or, indirectly, insult Gretel. ‘I—I’m honoured that you consider me worthy of your granddaughter, and while it’s true that we get along well together, she isn’t in love with me nor I with her. It would be unfair for us both to marry without love. However, I promise you this, Abe: I will take care of Gretel and look after her interests.’
And while he didn’t want to disappoint Abe, it was up to Gretel to decide whether she wanted to stay in Fiji or return to Holland. He was developing a sneaking suspicion, now that he had taken the time to think about how Verne Dennison behaved around Gretel, that perhaps Verne had more than friendship on his mind.
‘But you won’t marry her?’
Danny smiled benignly. Abe was persistent, but then Amy’s image danced before his eyes. ‘That’s not possible.’
Abe nodded that he understood, and then, worn out by the conversation, his eyelids closed and he began to doze. The two men sat in companionable silence for several minutes, and when the ailing man didn’t stir, Danny quietly left the room to join Gretel in the kitchen and told her that Abe was sleeping.
As he watched Gretel move about the kitchen, a pang of regret found its way into Danny’s thoughts. It would have been easy to come to care for Gretel. She had many worthwhile attributes: good looks, a warm personality, and she was a conscientious worker and a great cook. But…Amy was so deeply entrenched in Danny’s heart that there was no room for anyone else, no matter how tempting the thought might be.
Danny delayed his next trip to the islands to be with Abe until the old man died peacefully in his sleep. Respected by those who earned their living at sea, and loved by the natives because of his fairness and generosity, as well as being liked by many of the Europeans who’d settled in Fiji, Abe’s funeral was one of the best attended for many years. And, Danny decided, when a suitable period of mourning for Abe had passed, he would, as his old friend had charged him, sound out Verne’s intentions towards Gretel.
Randall sat at his father’s desk in the study, his gaze downcast as he re-read the first, special letter he’d received from Danny. It was a long missive, detailing all that had happened to Danny since he’d been in Fiji: his successes, his expanding business. Randall smiled; he was glad for his brother. It wasn’t hard to read between the lines of Danny’s neat, copperplate handwriting. It was clear that Danny had at last come to terms with what had happened between Randall and Amy. The long-held burden of guilt Randall had shouldered for so long began to lift. Thank God, he thought, as he let out a relieved sigh.
Taking a leaf of paper from the top drawer of the desk, and dipping his pen into the inkwell, Randall began to write a reply to his brother. He’d just enough time to do so—and to let Amy add a postscript, because he knew she would want to—before he went into Gindaroo on business.
Nora Allen clicked her tongue in annoyance as she searched the homestead for Kate. The youngster was a real scallywag. She loved to play hide-and-seek, to raid the pantry whenever she could for homemade biscuits, and to chase the hens around the yard for the fun of it, causing them to squawk and flap about in mild terror. Amy, who wasn’t well, was resting, and had left Kate in Nora’s care.
There were so many places in and around the homestead for the child to hide, but more often than not it was Tinga who gave Kate’s hiding place away by barking near her location. Today, Tinga wasn’t barking and, like Kate, couldn’t be found anywhere.
After an hour, searching every nook and cranny that Nora had found Kate hiding in on other occasions, she admitted defeat. Then she remembered that once she’d found Kate at the bottom of the home paddock, hiding behind a clump of saltbush. She rushed over but Kate wasn’t there either. The child was known to be fearless and, with her adventurous spirit, she could have wandered even further away from the homestead.
Returning to the kitchen, Nora made lunch for Amy, Jim and Mike—Randall was in Gindaroo, appealing to the bank for another loan extension—and waited for them to come to the kitchen. That Kate didn’t return when she banged the old tin pot to tell everyone lunch was ready deepened Nora’s fears sufficiently for her to tell Jim of her concern.
Amy overheard Nora and Jim talking. ‘What’s this about Kate? Is she playing hide-and-seek again?’
‘I’ve b
een searching for her for over an hour. I can’t find her. Tinga’s missing too,’ Nora admitted, her features tightening as her sense of alarm grew.
Amy frowned. ‘Kate has a good appetite and she usually comes out of hiding when you bang that old pot.’
‘So long as she’s close enough to hear the banging,’ Mike commented.
‘I told her at breakfast that one of the horses gave birth to a foal last night. Did you check the yard behind the barn?’ Jim asked his wife.
‘Twice.’
‘Maybe she’s fallen asleep in her hiding place,’ Amy said, trying not to panic yet. ‘Let’s eat quickly then we’ll all look for her. One of us is bound to find her.’ However, she’d lost her appetite and merely pushed the food around on her plate. Dear God, please let her daughter be safe. Kate knew, she’d been told often enough, not to wander out of sight of the homestead, but she was sometimes wilful and independent, remarkably so for one so young, and had had to be chastised more than once for being too adventurous.
While the men washed down their thickly sliced corned beef and pickle sandwiches with mugs of tea, Amy went and stood at the kitchen sink, looking out the window. Where could Kate be and what would Randall do if he were here?
‘I’m sure Kate’s playing one of her games. She’s hidden somewhere and I haven’t been able to find her,’ Nora said, trying to make light of the situation.
‘We’re all going to look for the little rascal,’ Amy decided. She looked at Mike and Jim. ‘Right now, eh?’ Whereupon the two men downed the last of their tea and stood up, ready for her orders.
‘We’ll check the house and the outbuildings again, and if she’s not there we’ll saddle up and each take a different direction. Jim, you ride south; Mike, go west; and I’ll go north,’ Amy said decisively.
‘Amy, do you think that’s a good idea, you riding?’ Nora expressed her concern. ‘You’re into your seventh month.’
Amy knew she was on the verge of being too far gone to sit astride the Duchess, but she wasn’t going to sit around the homestead and wait. Randall wasn’t here so she had to go. In spite of her silent decision to remain calm, tears began to brim in her eyes. ‘I don’t care. There’s no way I’m sitting here and waiting for someone to find her. Nora,’ she looked at Jim’s wife, ‘you might find her before we do, but if not…’ She didn’t finish the sentence. Instead she waved a hand at the men. ‘Come on, let’s get moving.’
As the men went out, their footsteps tramping about on the timber floors, suddenly Amy felt weak. She grasped the back of a chair for support. Nora tried, unsuccessfully, to get her to sit down.
‘I’m going to change into something suitable for riding while you, Jim and Mike check the house.’ Amy stopped in the kitchen doorway to turn back to Nora, and ask, ‘Did you check the truck and the tractor? Kate loves to get behind the wheel and pretend to drive them.’
‘I did. But I’ll check them again.’ Nora moved towards Amy and put her hand on Amy’s arm. ‘You’re not to worry, dear, it won’t be good for you or the baby. If Tinga’s with her, and I suspect he is, he’ll keep her safe.’
‘Oh, Nora, I hope so.’ Amy took a handkerchief out of the cuff of her dress and dabbed at her eyes as she turned to walk down the hall. ‘If anything’s happened to her…’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
By mid-afternoon, after a thorough search of the homestead, surrounding buildings and nearby paddocks, neither Kate nor Tinga had been found, so Amy, Jim and Mike saddled their horses. Each took a canteen of water and a rifle, with Amy’s instructions that firing two shots would denote that someone had located the youngster.
As Amy rode north she couldn’t get the image of her daughter’s face out of her mind. She was sick with worry because she knew from stories Randall and Danny had told her how easy it was to get lost in the Flinders, and how unforgiving the drought-stricken bush would be to a small child. One such instance of becoming lost involved Randall’s older brother, Edward. He had become disorientated in the bush when he was ten years old, and spent the night curled up in a drift of dead gum leaves. Back then they’d had an Aboriginal tracker-cum-jackeroo named Percy working on the property. Randall said that Percy had picked up Edward’s trail and brought him back to the homestead, cold and hungry but none the worse for wear.
Amy didn’t want to think how or if her little Kate could survive a night in the bush. She had to find her before Randall got back from Gindaroo and before the sun set. Besides, how far could a four-year-old child get, sturdy though she was? She didn’t have to worry about Kate drowning in a dam or the creek—they were devoid of water—but there were plenty of other places where she might wander and get into difficulties. Amy pulled on the Duchess’s reins, then stopped and got off the horse. Her blue eyes scanned the ground, hoping to pick up Kate’s or Tinga’s trail, signs her husband had taught her to recognise.
In between patches of dead grass the earth was bare and hardpacked, with little evidence of any animal or child having travelled over it. She walked for roughly fifty yards, leading her horse, and was ready to give up when she saw what she thought was the heelprint of a small boot in the bone-dry soil. Around it were animal tracks: dog paws. Tinga’s? Her gaze narrowed as she concentrated; she’d seen similar tracks before and could tell that there was more than one dog: several, by the look of it.
Amy’s mouth tightened and her heart missed a beat. That sign was easy to read. Feral dogs! Oh no! Squinting, and half-turning away from the lowering sun, she stared into the distance at a clump of rugged rocks that jutted out and ran up a steep hill, part of the Flinders Ranges. The heelprints were headed in that direction and so were the dog prints. Remounting, she rammed her hat down hard on her head, encouraged the Duchess into a gallop and covered the distance as quickly as she could. When she got close to the rocks, a small voice called, ‘Mummy, Mummy…’
A wave of relief rushed through Amy. It was a while before she saw her daughter. She didn’t know how Kate had managed it but she and Tinga had climbed up onto a tall rock that was sheer on three sides, and Kate was swatting at something beyond Amy’s view with a tree branch. Then Amy heard a series of frustrated snarls. Pulling on the reins she changed direction to come round the rocks from the other side. Three feral dogs, mangy, skinny animals, no doubt halfstarving because of the drought, were jumping and snapping and snarling at Kate and Tinga. For a second or two Amy marvelled at her daughter’s courage, because she kept on swinging the branch at the dogs to keep them at bay.
Amy didn’t waste another second. She withdrew Randall’s Winchester from its holster and put it to her shoulder. One shot rang out, then another, and two dogs fell and were still. The rifle’s recoil almost knocked her out of the saddle. The third dog, whimpering in fear, turned tail and began to run, with Tinga, now that the stakes were even, giving chase.
‘Mummy, oh, Mummy, I knew you or Daddy would come.’
Amy’s throat muscles tightened so much she couldn’t speak. Instead, sliding out of the saddle, she picked Kate up—the child had clambered down from the rock—and hugged her tightly. They were three or four miles from the homestead’s perimeter and she marvelled at how far Kate had walked, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except that Kate was safe. Later, when they reached home and Amy had tended to Kate’s cuts and grazes, and given her lots of hugs and kisses, there would be questions and, she hoped, answers that made sense.
‘You’re not hurt, darling?’
‘A little. I fell over a couple of times when those dogs started to chase me and Tinga. And I skinned my knees climbing the rocks,’ Kate said in her childish matter-of-fact way. ‘Those bad dogs scared me, Mummy. A lot. Tinga tried to chase them off but there were too many, and they were too angry.’
‘Mmm, thirsty?’ When Kate nodded that she was, Amy uncorked and handed the canteen to her. ‘Hasn’t Daddy told you how dangerous it can be in the bush?’
Kate looked at her mother, and her blue eyes, so much like Amy’s, h
eld a hint of tears. ‘Yes. I understand now.’ She gave a little shudder, which was followed by a childish sigh. ‘I’ll never do it again, Mummy, I promise.’
Amy smiled at Kate’s promise. Perhaps today’s fright would be enough to curb her youthful adventurousness. ‘Come on, up on the Duchess.’ Grunting at the effort it took, she lifted her daughter into the saddle and, in spite of her advanced pregnant state, managed to climb up behind her. ‘Let’s go home.’
As they rode, Amy reviewed the drama that had just unfolded. Kate had learned a valuable lesson about the hardship of the Flinders and everyone at Drovers was going to be happy about that! And, steering her horse towards the homestead, her daughter safe in her arms, without conscious volition her thoughts turned to Danny. It was good that they’d re-established contact—getting that first letter a few months ago had been wonderful for Randall and a relief for her. They were both pleased to know he was doing well. She must write soon, and tell him of his niece’s latest adventure. Kate was a true McLean, there was no doubting that. She chuckled as she saw Tinga bound ahead to herald their arrival with several barks. Randall and the others would be relieved to know Kate was safe.
Sharp, take-your-breath-away pains began in the middle of the night, two nights after Kate’s experience in the bush. Amy knew straight away that the baby was coming, but she was only seven months pregnant and it was too soon! This time it felt very different from when she’d gone into labour with Kate—that had been almost textbook-perfect.
She shook Randall’s shoulder till he stirred. ‘The baby’s coming.’
Still groggy with sleep, Randall took a moment or two to grasp the situation. ‘Now? You’re sure?’
‘Yes, but things don’t feel right. The pains are excruciating.’ She gasped as another pain struck low in her stomach. Kate had been a big baby, and usually the second child was bigger than the first—though at seven months it shouldn’t be. Babies usually put most of their weight on in the last month of pregnancy. Oh, stop worrying, she scolded herself. Everything will be all right. ‘Call Winnie and call Gavin,’ she said. ‘I don’t think it’s going to be a normal birth.’
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