One day he showed them to her. The table was covered in pieces of rock that he said he’d picked up in the course of his travels. He showed her one piece of reddish stone that weighed heavy in her hand.
‘Hematite,’ he said. ‘Iron ore.’
‘You mentioned it in Charters Towers,’ she said. ‘You’ve never found any?’
‘Not yet. But it’s here somewhere.’
At the beginning of September there was a change.
‘We’re having a round-up next week,’ Garth said. ‘Now you got the house sorted I suppose you might as well come with us.’
Colin was less than thrilled when he heard. ‘The old man’s never taken one of his women on a muster before,’ he said.
‘I am not one of his women,’ Bella said.
‘Stay here long enough you will be,’ Colin said.
Bella ignored him. She had not forgotten Charles and never would; his loss was a living ache. Just after she arrived at Miranda Downs she had told herself she had to put the past behind her and move on. She still said so; it just hadn’t happened yet. If and when that time came, she believed she could do a lot worse than Garth Tucker. Once again she felt the faint butterfly flutter of desire as she watched the slow, devilish grin with which he raked her emotions so effortlessly whenever he directed it at her.
One of his women? No way. But Garth Tucker’s woman, wedded and – of course! – bedded: that was beginning to look an entirely different proposition. She was determined there would be none of this nonsense of sleeping with her and then pitching her out, like he had her predecessors. If he wasn’t prepared to marry her he could forget the rest of it.
There were fifteen of them when they rode out: Tommy in charge of the stockmen, Wallaby the horse minder, Sarah the camp cook, Garth, Colin and Bella. Bella was on Lucas, a grey gelding that Garth had said she could ride. He had checked her riding skills first: more proof that respect, in this country, had to be earned.
‘The Aborigines you’ve got working with you,’ Bella said. ‘What arrangement do you have with them? About wages and so on?’
‘We pay them a wage. Not a huge sum but better than most other stations. O’Malley doesn’t pay his people anything. We give them rations, too, of course. If they’re crook I’m always willing to fly them to the hospital in Wyndham. Not that they often want it, mind you.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Most of them aren’t keen on going up in Minnie. Why do you want to know, anyway?’
The real reason was that Bella had decided Miranda Downs was going to be her home and she wanted to know everything there was to know about the place. But if she told him that she was afraid Garth might think she was being presumptuous, so she didn’t.
‘Just wondered, that’s all.’
‘Now you know,’ he said. ‘So let’s get this show on the road, shall we?’
There was a bite in the air, the tame cattle bellowing as they were herded along, the dozen or so working dogs circling them or rushing off with excited yelps to explore the thousand intriguing smells of the bush. The main party was followed by the camp wagon, driven by Wallaby’s brother Dave and stacked with supplies, from food and tobacco to baling wire and a first aid kit.
They were heading towards the furthest border of Miranda Downs, on the far side of the Tait River country. Two days out from the homestead they reached it.
A saddle extended across the valley, with a narrow draw down the middle of it. Garth had halted, reins hanging loose as he lifted his binoculars and inspected the higher ground ahead of them. The Miranda land ended just this side of the ridge; beyond was Limerick. It was the one open stretch along the border of the two properties and Garth stared at the area just below the ridge where a rolling cloud of grey dust was heading down the slope towards them.
Garth licked his lips. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he muttered.
He wheeled, reins taut, kicking his heels into the horse’s flanks.
‘Get the coaches spread out,’ he shouted.
Instant action as the stockmen ran.
With no idea what to do and knowing better than ask, Bella did what she could to keep out of the way.
The cloud was much nearer now. She heard the thunder of hooves and made out the shapes of the stampeding animals, barely visible in the dust. They were bellowing, their horns tossing in a confusion that stole her breath. It looked like half the cattle in creation were racing down the draw towards them.
Instead of going after the cattle, the cattle were coming after them. But why?
No time to ask; no time for anything as the frontrunners reached them. Bella’s world became a frenzy of mounted men, thundering hooves and the fleeting shapes of cattle, of danger emerging suddenly from billowing clouds of cinnamon-coloured dust. Then, as suddenly as it had come, it was over.
‘Reckon there were a thousand cleanskins in that mob,’ Garth Tucker said exultantly. ‘And we got the lot.’
There were nowhere near a thousand animals tossing their horns amid the placidly circling coaches: more like four hundred. Bella looked the question.
‘The rest are somewhere on Miranda, now,’ Garth said. ‘We’ll get all of them in time. And won’t O’Malley be mad!’
‘Why did they charge down the valley like that?’ Bella asked.
‘That’s the best joke of all. His boys were up on the ridge. They were trying to turn the mob but somehow they sent them the wrong way.’ He chuckled. ‘I wouldn’t be in the boss boy’s shoes for quids when O’Malley gets hold of him.’
‘But, if they started from his land, aren’t they his?’
‘Without a brand they’re ours now,’ Garth said. ‘And not a thing he can do about it.’
He was almost dancing in the saddle. Bella had never seen him so exuberant. It wasn’t gaining the extra cattle that had fired him up, she thought, it was winning. For a man like Garth Tucker, that was the most potent drug of all. She could relate to that. Winning had always been all-important to her, even before seeing off the vile Major Lacey. Maiming Mr Johnson, emptying the till at the Cockatoo Club and evading her pursuers had all been part of the pattern. Life offered its rewards to winners, not losers, and she was determined to have her share of them.
There were other trophies besides a few rustled cattle and outsmarting the neighbours. Back at the house, two days later, Garth obviously decided there was another one he wanted. The time had come to get into Bella’s bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It was ten o’clock at night and as black as pitch. In Bella’s bedroom – in Bella’s bed! – Garth was laying siege to her.
‘No!’ Bella said.
‘Come on, Duchess. Don’t be like that,’ Garth said. He put his hands on her breasts.
She pushed them away. ‘I said no!’
‘You let me in,’ he said. ‘What did you expect?’
It was true; she had let him in.
‘I thought you wanted to talk.’
A lie: she had known exactly what he wanted. Despite what she’d told herself during the muster, she had wanted it, too. She had wanted to feel his strong hands caressing her but at the last moment memories of the Johnson nightmare had overwhelmed her and she had found herself physically incapable of going through with it.
It would infuriate Garth but there was nothing she could do about it. Perhaps it was just as well. What had she told Colin? I am not one of his women. If she did not stop him she would be and that, she thought, could be fatal.
‘No!’ she said again, with greater vigour. ‘Stop it, Garth! I mean it. Stop it!’
She could feel how worked up he was and wondered if she’d left it too late, but no. He fell off her and lay on his back. She dared not speak or move but lay until his breath had returned to normal.
Only then was she willing to sound penitent. ‘I’m sorry, darling. I want you, too, but I don’t want to be just another of your women.’
It was risky; playing hard to get never made a woman popular yet, bu
t for Garth to want her now was not enough. He had to go on wanting her. And to achieve that…
She had to make him love her. ‘Humour me? Please?’
They lay quietly, hand in hand. They talked a little but not for long. Finally: ‘If there’s nothing doing here I’d best get to bed,’ Garth said.
A chaste kiss; he was gone. The door creaked shut behind him. Alone, Bella contemplated what had happened between them, as well as what had so nearly happened but had not. She knew she would have to be very careful. She wanted him; there was no doubt about that. Once she had managed to put the Johnson business behind her she would want him more than ever. When that time came she thought she might find it very difficult to resist him. Yet the problem remained. To give too much, or not enough: how was a girl to know where to draw the line?
Early the next morning Bella saddled up and rode out. She wanted to be alone. Now Garth had given her the gelding she was determined to take every opportunity there was to explore the tract that was Miranda Downs. She had been here only a few short months yet already the land had taken hold of her. To explore it would be to pay court to its vastness, its inscrutability, the power and glory of which the Bible spoke, the manifestation of a creative energy that had formed the land and that she could sense still in its almost limitless space. This was majesty, a place of humility and pride where, in a way she could not articulate, she could reach out and touch the beginning of all things. A beginning and a continuation. All that had been, still was and would be forever until that time, unimaginable aeons into the future, when past and present and future would become one, consumed in the vast conflagration of the exploding sun.
Mrs Johnson had owned a book about what it called the creation myths of the Aboriginal people. As far as she knew Mrs Johnson had not read it but Bella had. Knowing nothing, she had learnt a little but would like to learn much more. She knew that what the book had said could of course have been wrong and would certainly have been incomplete. She had watched the faces of the women who had gone with them on the muster and knew that when she had given them time to know her better she would seek from them whatever they might be willing to reveal of their version of the truth of things.
So Bella Tempest rode, a speck of dust on the landscape, and the landscape swallowed her. She was open to the sounds and silences of the land, the clopping hooves of the horse, the mystery of trees, the wonder of the hills that stretched away. The screech of a cockatoo attacked the stillness, deriding the futility of the woman whose heart longed to understand.
As she rode, she thought. She had no regrets about the previous night. She had done the right thing and Garth’s reaction gave her hope that he must care for her, at least a little. That was good news, because she had fallen in love: not yet with the man, but completely and absolutely with the place.
She rode up a steep incline to a stretch of open ground from which it was possible to look out across the countryside. Broken only by the lines of creeks, the bush was partly obscured by mist but in her mind she could see it: the pattern of hills and plains that was Miranda Downs. She was excited by the sense of adventure that came from knowing that all around her were areas where no human foot had ever trod. She had loved England and still did, but there you could not take a step without standing on soil that had been trodden by a thousand generations before. Here it was still possible. Miranda Downs had become vital to her. She could not bear the thought that one day Garth might get rid of her, as he had those before her. There was only one way she could guarantee her future here and she knew, watching a cockatoo flying, its sulphur-coloured crest bright in the sunlight, that she would take it.
She rode back. Garth gave her a curious look but did not ask what she’d been doing. Perhaps, as someone else who loved this land, he knew.
It was a fortnight later. So far, miraculously, all was well. When they were with others Garth was as he had always been, but alone he was both tender and considerate. He paid her no more night-time visits, leaving Bella wondering how she would react if he did.
They went on another muster, Bella quite the old hand now. Immersed in clouds of red and amber dust, they drove their cattle to the meatworks at Wyndham. Life in the bush had become second nature and she loved it. The living remained spartan but Miranda Downs was now her home, and it was obvious from the way the hands treated her that she and Garth were regarded as an item. It led to problems that Bella supposed she should have foreseen. Colin had been taciturn from the first. Now he became even more wary, watching her with resentful eyes. Later, after an evening when she heard voices raised between him and his father, they became hostile. Never chatty, he hardly spoke to her at all but she felt his scowl everywhere she went. Finally she’d had enough.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘That’s what I admire about you,’ Colin said. ‘You want something, you go for it. To hell with everyone else. And then you ask what’s wrong.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
Except she thought she might. In this house you could hardly breathe without everyone knowing: witness the argument she’d overheard between Colin and his father. It was highly probable, Bella thought, that Colin had heard at least something of what had happened in her room that night. No doubt he would have misinterpreted it, too. But so what? He had already told her that she wouldn’t be the first visitor to have Garth Tucker in her bed, so why
should he care? She asked Garth about it.
‘He’ll get over it.’
So that she felt shut out by the unwillingness of both father and son to explain or even talk to her about it.
That night as it was getting dark, wearing shirts buttoned to the wrists against mosquitoes, she and Garth strolled down to the creek together. The dying light formed puddles of silver and gold on the surface of the water but the blackness of the undergrowth on either bank was impenetrable. Like the people of the land, Bella thought. A few shafts of light, revealing little, and surrounded by the darkness of what could not be told. A land of mystery, indeed, but there were some mysteries she was not prepared to tolerate.
‘I want you to tell me why Colin is so anti,’ she said.
She watched the profile of Garth’s features as he stared at the water: the defiant beak of nose, the forceful thrust of jaw. Now he rubbed the back of his neck.
‘I guess, Bella, because he’s scared of you.’
‘Scared? Why on earth should he be scared?’
He glanced at her and there was just enough light for her to see his wry smile. ‘Thing is,’ he said, ‘there’ve been one or two here before you.’
Bella laughed. ‘I never doubted it. So what?’
‘I guess Colin’s grown up with the idea that they come and they go and nothing changes.’
Bella had the feeling they were on the edge of something that might prove important, if she wanted to stay. She sensed that Garth was exploring his own feelings and knew she must not hurry the pace of the conversation or intrude in any way. Once again she followed the pattern that had worked so well for her in the past. She said nothing.
‘And now it has changed,’ Garth said.
Bella’s mouth was so dry. ‘In what way?’ she said.
‘Because you’re still here.’
‘And plan to stay, as well,’ she said. ‘If you don’t kick me out.’
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘No night life. No fun –’
‘Because I love this place.’
His eyes glinted as he looked at her. It was too dark to see his expression but she would have swallowed her words, had it been possible. Again she wondered whether he might think it presumptuous that someone who hadn’t even been here twelve months should lay claim to such feelings. He might even think she was lying to curry favour. But it was the truth and she stood firm, looking back at him.
‘I had a feeling you did,’ he said. ‘That is good.’
Warmth flowed through her. It was much better than good. It was wonderful that he should unders
tand and accept what she had told him. But… ‘That doesn’t explain why Colin should be scared of me.’
‘Because he loves Miranda Downs too. It has been his whole life. Since he left school – what? – five years ago, he’s been nowhere else. He knows nowhere else. He’s grown up to think of this place as his heritage. I’ve encouraged him to think so. Now he’s afraid you may take Miranda Downs away from him.’
‘I wouldn’t be able to do that even if I wanted. Miranda Downs is yours.’
‘He probably thinks you might talk me round. Seeing you love the place so much.’
She saw he was testing her, too, trying to sense whether Colin’s doubts might be justified. ‘I might,’ she agreed. ‘But I wouldn’t. I would never do anything like that.’
‘I believe you,’ he said. ‘But you can understand how he feels.’
Now even the silvery light upon the waters of the creek was almost gone. A mosquito sang.
‘I must talk to him,’ Bella said.
‘Leave him be,’ Garth said. ‘Like I said, he’ll get over it.’
Bella had her doubts but let it go for the moment.
Unfortunately, as she had feared, Garth proved to be wrong. Colin remained hostile: to her, mostly, but to his father also and as the months passed she learnt to ignore the atmosphere; it seemed you could get used to anything, given time. But learning to ignore it did not mean it had gone away.
It was July 1939 and the storm clouds were gathering in far away Europe. On Miranda Downs Colin had long ago stopped thinking that Dad and Bella were sleeping together but that didn’t make him feel better. On the contrary, it meant that Garth had changed his behaviour from how it had been with Bella’s predecessors and that was a worry. Taking her mustering was a case in point. Colin had given up hoping she would make a fool of herself; from the beginning she had never put a foot wrong. She had not complained about the discomfort; she had lent a hand where she could; she had not panicked when the stampede had brought the cattle within yards of her.
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