The Horse Thief

by Téa Cooper

  ‘It’s wonderful to have you in Sydney again. You can’t imagine how I miss you and your sister.’ His pose was so familiar. Erect, hands behind his back and his legs braced against whatever the ocean might throw at him. His large, strong hands rested on the smooth wheel, his eyes scanning the waterways. Even though they were at anchor his senses were alert to the slightest movement. Perhaps Papa didn’t belong at Helligen, maybe her dreams were misplaced. He appeared so at ease captaining his ship.

  ‘Why did you buy Helligen? Why didn’t Mama stay aboard with you or live here in Sydney while you were at sea?’

  He turned with a quizzical expression on his face, his lips twisting in a half smile as though he found pleasure in the memory. ‘It was an old dream, forged long ago. We both wanted more than we’d had for our children, you and Violet, and life aboard a ship, no matter how beautiful …’ His voice trailed off as he cast his eyes up the tall, straight mast to the immaculate furled sails. ‘The Cloud is not the life for a family.’

  ‘But nor was Helligen.’

  ‘Helligen was everything we dreamt it would be and when Oliver was born …’

  The memory of the words in his journal knifed through her mind.

  He swallowed his grief. ‘We had everything.’

  ‘Until Mama’s accident and Oliver’s death.’ Speaking failed to alleviate the tightness in her throat. She had to shoulder some of the blame. She clutched her arms tighter around her body and swayed with the motion of the ship.

  He nodded. ‘Your mother’s accident should never have occurred.’ Papa’s jaw tightened. In the past the conversation ended here. They had never discussed Oliver’s death or the events that led up to Mama’s accident.

  ‘Tell me again what happened.’ India embarked on forbidden territory, the subject taboo as far back as she could remember. Now there was more at stake and perhaps she was selfish, but if she had to give up Jim for her family she had a right to understand the reason.

  He grunted. ‘You’ve heard it all before. Your mother fell in love with that wretched stallion. She was determined to ride him, breed from him. She and the Cobb fellow hatched some foolish plan. They were going to breed the finest racehorse in the world.’ He swung the wheel, his face etched with pain. ‘From the moment she set eyes on Goodfellow she was besotted.’ He turned from her, his shirt taut across his broad shoulders as he stared over the water.

  Her dream was no different to Mama’s. She wanted to breed the finest racehorse, too. She wanted to plead with him, beg him to continue. ‘Papa?’

  After an uncomfortable silence he twisted and faced her once more. The look in his eyes sent a stab of guilt through her. ‘She spent all her time out in the paddocks, riding, working with that wretched man. That’s what caused the string of miscarriages. Damn it! I wanted, we both wanted, a son. The doctors said the only way was for your mother to spend her time confined to the house, no riding, a life of calm and peace. I returned home and managed to convince her she should leave the place to Cobb and the band of labourers we had on hand. Wait until after she had given birth. She did. And Oliver was born. The culmination of all our dreams.’

  Papa’s jaw tightened and he compressed his lips. The agony in his face made her heart bleed. She stood up and moved closer to him, but he held up his hand, stilling her.

  He swallowed and continued. ‘The doctors recommended light exercise, a short walk every day, and they promised she would recover her strength. Then five weeks, just five weeks after Oliver’s birth, Cobb lured her back out and almost killed her! He had my strict instruction she wasn’t even to be in the stables.’

  Raw anger, untempered by time, boiled to the surface. The colour rose to his face and he slammed his fist against the bulkhead. What hope had she of convincing him Cobb’s son belonged at Helligen, that he was the man for the job?

  ‘He didn’t even accompany her. Just let her go.’

  A picture of Mama only a few days ago flashed before her eyes—astride Jefferson, bareback, wheeling to a halt on the narrow bush track as competent as any stockman.

  ‘When I discovered she’d gone we sent out search parties. Cobb had the audacity to pretend he had no knowledge of the incident. She couldn’t have even mounted the animal without assistance. He stood seventeen hands! A man’s horse. A stallion.’

  Mama was far from an incapable or novice rider. She’d managed to mount Jefferson without any help only the other day. Did Papa have no knowledge of his wife’s capabilities? India studied his face, weighing up the possibility of continuing the conversation. It was as though there was something just inches from her, something slippery that she couldn’t quite grasp.

  ‘When you found her …’

  ‘Cobb found her. Is it essential we go down this track, India? I don’t see what bearing it has on matters today. The past is just that—past. Leave it where it belongs.’

  India’s temper flared. It might be the past but it still affected her every waking moment, her whole existence. She had too much to lose and a debt to pay. This time she wasn’t prepared to give up without a fight.

  ‘It’s not in the past, Papa. Violet, Mama, you and I—we all live in the shadow of this every day. I want to understand.’

  ‘There must be a reason for this sudden interest.’ He turned and fixed her with a stare, the same stare that halted her in her tracks as a child. ‘Well? Is there something wrong with your mother?’

  ‘No, there’s nothing wrong with Mama. In fact, she seems better, brighter. The renewed activity, the prospect of new foals and …’

  ‘And?’

  Colour flooded her face. ‘The new man I employed has a stallion and she’s captivated.’

  ‘Captivated? By the man or his stallion?’

  India puffed her cheeks then let out a long slow stream of air, trying to dissipate the heat in her face. It wasn’t her mother who was captivated by the man, far from it.

  ‘I think you’d better tell me the whole story.’

  ‘So do I. Will you listen and not lose your temper?’

  ‘I don’t like the sound of this. I can’t promise I won’t be angry. I will, however, listen until the end.’

  India sucked in a breath. ‘I put an advertisement for a stud master in The Maitland Mercury in your name.’ Without giving Papa the opportunity to interrupt India took a quick breath and continued. ‘Jim Mawgan arrived. He seemed perfect for the job and I employed him. He’s strong and capable, has a way with horses and a great understanding of my … our needs.’

  ‘You sound like your mother.’ There it was again, the oblique reference to something more than she’d expected. She raised an eyebrow and he closed his mouth, lips pursed.

  ‘Everything went well. That’s when Mama began to take an interest. She watched all the activity from her window.’ India swallowed back the whole truth about her mother’s nightly sojourn; she’d get to that later. While she had Papa’s attention it was better to move on and leave out the finer details. ‘It turned out Jim Mawgan, as he’d introduced himself, was in fact James Cobb, the son …’

  All sound disappeared, no splashing of waves against the ship, no screeching of gulls, just a solid and agonising void. A shadow fell across Papa’s face, a mixture of pain and loathing that quickly turned to downright anger.

  His bushy eyebrows shot together and a deep frown creased his forehead. ‘I know who he is,’ he spat through gritted teeth.

  She ploughed on regardless. ‘You told me I had a year. A year to make this work until I had to consider marriage.’

  ‘I didn’t expect you to advertise for a marriage partner.’

  ‘I didn’t.’ She slammed her hands down on the deck and jumped to her feet facing him. ‘Why do you think I’m interested in the man for anything other than his capabilities?’ Who was the liar now? ‘You promised you’d listen.’ The plaintive note in her voice made her cringe.

  ‘I’m not having him on Helligen. I will not have any member of that family anywhere near my pr
operty or my family. They as good as destroyed us. Cobb’s last act was to put a bullet through my stallion’s head. It was a fitting end. I only wish he’d turned the gun on himself.’

  ‘You don’t understand. Jim is not his father. Thomas Cobb is dead. You can’t blame the sins of the father on the son. It says so in the bible. His son is a charming, capable young man with a great knowledge of horses. He has the most beautiful stallion of his own, so like Goodfellow. I would like to use him for some of our mares. I’m sure he’d throw buckskins.’

  ‘And he has you wrapped around his little finger, just like your mother.’

  ‘No, he does not have me wrapped around his little finger. I believe he’s the best man for the job.’ And the only man she’d ever wanted.

  ‘He is not, and neither was his father. I will not live through this again. Thomas Cobb ruined our family, destroyed my wife, your mother. I will not have his son doing the same to you. Don’t you understand there’s more at stake than your infatuation with this man and his horse? If you say you want to take responsibility and manage Helligen then you must understand what that entails. An entire community is reliant on your success. If you’re not up to the job then the property must be sold. Either get the man off Helligen or I will.’

  ‘You promised me a year and I’m not prepared to let him go. He is the best man for the job. Regardless of whose son he may or may not be, I want him at Helligen.’ There, she’d said it. Forget Jim’s lies, his ulterior motives, she wanted him at Helligen and she wanted more time to explore the strange connection they had.

  ‘Then you have a further decision to make. Your family, or the family who destroyed all I held dear. We return to Helligen as soon as possible.’

  Twenty-Two

  Jim opened the wooden gate and ran his fingers over the carved words—Helligen Stud. He led the two horses through and shut it firmly behind him. This was his final opportunity and he would make good his promise to his father. He would right past wrongs. Return Goodfellow to his lawful owners and move on. The old horse raised his head and breathed the air. Jim’s heart lifted. Helligen was in his blood and he suspected in Goodfellow’s, too. He kicked up his heels as if to urge Jefferson on and tell him fresh water and a biscuit of lucerne waited just around the corner.

  ‘Hey, Mr Cobb, sir. We’ve been wondering when you’d be back—’ Fred’s eyebrows disappeared into the shock of hair hanging over his forehead and he let out a low whistle. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Goodfellow. Jefferson’s sire. I told you—Jim. Cut the Cobb and the sir bit.’

  ‘Yes sir, Jim.’ Fred walked around the back of the two horses, an appraising grin on his face. ‘That’s what I call a horse. And he throws true. No doubt he’s Jefferson’s sire. The missus was right.’

  Jim grunted. Now he’d arrived the wisdom of his idea rankled. Supposing Mrs Kilhampton became upset when she saw Goodfellow. Maybe the truth was more than she could bear. She might collapse into a decline. Then India would never forgive him. His stomach churned and he pulled the horses up sharp before he rounded the corner of the barn.

  ‘Let’s put them in the barn, Fred, not the stables. I don’t want them near the other animals yet. They’ll need a good feed. It’s been a long trip for the old boy.’

  ‘Doesn’t look as though he’s suffered much to me.’ Fred opened the wide double doors.

  The light streamed in through the gabled windows illuminating the timber interior.

  Jim glanced around and inhaled. ‘The barn’s looking good, Fred. Been keeping on top of things?’ He handed Goodfellow’s reins to the boy.

  ‘Thought you might promise me another ride.’ He threw a wink.

  Cheeky bugger. ‘We’ll see. There might be a few people lining up before you.’

  ‘I’ll give them both a rub down. Peggy’s in the kitchen. Better go tell her you’re here otherwise you’ll miss out on your tucker.’

  Jim’s feet dragged as he made his way across the courtyard. Without India the place had lost its sparkle, or perhaps his mood had something to do with it. The problem was when and how to tell Mrs Kilhampton that Goodfellow was back. With Fred and Peggy’s big mouths it wouldn’t stay a secret for long. He pushed the door to the kitchen wide, unsure of the reception he’d receive.

  When Peggy turned around to see who dared cross into her territory her face broke into a welcoming smile. ‘You’re back. About time too. Mrs Kilhampton’s asking after you.’

  Jim pulled off his hat and scratched at the road dirt on his face. ‘I thought I’d get a mouthful when I got back here.’

  ‘You might have done except she’s been busy telling us what a wonderful man you are. Want a cuppa?’ She turned the teapot three times and poured him a cup. ‘And how you’re going to lay all the ghosts to rest.’

  ‘And which ghosts would those be?’ Jim asked as he stirred sugar into his tea.

  ‘Mrs Kilhampton’s ghosts. The ghosts of the past. Helligen’s ghosts. They’re one and the same.’ She shrugged her ample shoulders and pulled a large baking tray from the oven. The meat hissed and sizzled and the smell of roasted beef filled the kitchen making Jim’s mouth water. ‘Wait until after dinner. Go and see her then. Have you brought the horse back?’

  ‘What horse?’

  ‘Goodfellow, of course. When you didn’t turn up yesterday Mrs K told Anya that’s where you’d be.’

  Jim nodded. ‘Can’t keep much a secret around here, can I?’ A weight lifted from his shoulders. It was good to be himself again and not some trumped-up imaginary character. There would be no more secrets. ‘I’ll go and get washed up.’

  ‘Eat in here. We need the company.’

  Jim threw her a grin. ‘I’d like that. Rattling around in that cottage on my own was beginning to make me feel like the Ghost of Christmas Past.’

  ‘Christmas isn’t far off. Got a few bits and pieces to sort out before then. Haven’t even started my Christmas cake yet. Off you go. Won’t be long.’

  Jim ran his fingers over the date engraved on the lintel, just for luck, and pushed open the door to the cottage. Home. The thought caught him by surprise. This would always be the home of his heart, whether or not he could stay. The sooner India returned the sooner he could lay all his cards on the table.

  The pump performed its usual antics and he kicked it until it spluttered and delivered. With the road washed off and a clean shirt he headed back to the kitchen relishing the prospect of Peggy’s beef. On the way he stuck his head around the corner of the barn and checked Goodfellow and Jefferson. Side by side in the two stalls like doppelgangers they turned to greet him, satisfied gleams flickering in their eyes.

  ‘Stay there until tomorrow, boys, and then you can have a romp in the paddock.’

  He latched the heavy doors on the barn and as he turned a bilious pink vision strutted across the grass. With a cry it lifted its skirts and flew across the yard.

  ‘Jim! You’re back. I’m so pleased to see you.’

  He braced himself against Violet’s effusive welcome. Would he be subjected to Violet the Flirt, or Violet the Tantrum? Neither character presented itself as she slipped her hand through his arm. ‘Dinner’s ready. Peggy said to come and get you.’

  Somewhat taken aback by her cheerful reception Jim tucked her arm into his. ‘And what’s been happening while I’ve been away?’

  ‘Not a lot, not a little. India’s in Sydney seeing Papa. Oh! You know that, don’t you?’ She shot a glance at him from under her lashes and gave a little smirk. ‘Mama has taken on a new lease of life. She’s been telling us stories about you as a little boy.’

  A snake the size of a diamond python uncurled in his belly as he waited to hear what she had to say.

  ‘All about how you fell from the roof and split your head open and had to have it sewn back on.’

  His spare hand ran through his hair, fingering the scar behind his ear. ‘So long as it’s not all bad.’

  ‘She said she expected you to bring Goodfellow
back and that’s why you’ve taken so long.’ Violet stopped and made to turn. ‘She’s so excited. Have you brought him home?’

  How had Mrs Kilhampton known he’d gone to fetch Goodfellow? At the risk of being accused fanciful, it was almost as though she had some communication with the animal. As if she’d known all along he would return. No wonder she’d been so determined to find him.

  ‘He’s in the barn with Jefferson.’

  ‘Can we go and see him?’ She pulled him around in a circle.

  ‘Not right now. They’ve both had a long day. I don’t want to disturb them.’

  ‘You do have him, don’t you?’

  ‘I’ve got him.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that. Short of going and digging up his grave—’ she gave a delicate shudder, ‘—I wasn’t sure whether to believe Mama or not. Anya swore it was true and so did Peggy.’

  ‘How would they know?’ he asked, curiosity coiling inside him.

  ‘Just because that’s what Mama said. She’s been so completely different since you and India left. It’s as though she’s thrown off the past. She’s quite animated. She’s even wearing a different dress. I can’t remember the last time I saw her in anything but that billowing nightgown affair. She’s, well, she’s almost normal.’

  The python in his belly settled as they made their way across the courtyard. At Mrs Kilhampton’s bedroom window the curtains blew in the evening breeze although there was no sign of the usual hovering silhouette.

  ‘Fred and Jilly are joining us. Anya has taken Mama’s tray up and told her you’re back. She wants to talk to you after dinner.’ Violet dropped his arm and waited for him to push open the kitchen door. He covered a smile as he held the door back and she swept into the kitchen. He rather liked Violet this evening. She still had all her Sydney airs and graces, but there was a little more humanity about her.

  ‘There you are,’ Peggy said, flicking her cloth as she put the last of the heated plates onto the table. ‘Just in time. It’s ready.’