The Horse Thief

by Téa Cooper

  ‘I think it’s an absolute disgrace, India, that you can throw our plans into such disarray.’ Violet tossed her head and stepped up into the buggy. ‘Papa will flay you alive. Cecil is a paragon of virtue to tolerate your tantrums.’

  India didn’t deign to answer. She’d exhausted every last ounce of her energy convincing Cecil they should return home. It was only when she played her trump card, burst into tears and suggested she, and by association Cecil, might be implicated in Jim’s escape that Cecil had crumbled and agreed. He’d drawn the line at allowing her to travel alone with Fred though. Why, she had no idea. She’d made the trip unaccompanied more times than she could count. Something about responsibility and appropriateness.

  ‘India, do you still insist on riding? I’m sure we can make room for you.’ He shifted along the seat closer to Violet.

  From her vantage point in the saddle Violet’s little quiver of delight as Cecil moved closer was more than obvious. India ignored it. Let Violet play her games. The thought of marrying Cecil made her physically sick. It would mean trusting him to take care of her, losing control, conforming. There would be no more freedom to spend days at Helligen. The look her mother had given her and the touch on her shoulder had exuded such sympathy and understanding she’d dared to dream that she might, with Mama’s assistance, escape her sentence. It would require time and gentle progress to build the bridges that illness and guilt had shattered. Marriage to Cecil would prove an impenetrable barrier.

  Since his masterful rescue last night Cecil had been more than attentive to her every need; however, she was in grave danger of suffering an attack of the vapours for the first time in her life. Riding would give her a better chance to breathe and scour the countryside. She had no doubt that Jim would make for Helligen. Jefferson would be his only concern. If she could find him and manage to convince him not to return while Papa was at home, then perhaps she could bring Jefferson to him.

  The miles disappeared beneath the horse’s hooves along with her hopes. Jim wouldn’t travel the road. On foot he’d stick to the trails and tracks, out of sight … unless he’d managed to acquire a horse. Or steal a horse!

  As the shadows lengthened the hills above Helligen appeared on the horizon and India reined in beside the carriage. ‘I will ride ahead and alert everyone to our return.’

  Cecil leant across Violet. ‘I don’t think that’s a very sensible idea, my dear. Would it not be better if we present a united front to your father? I feel sure you will need my support. I shall speak to him man to man. Make him understand the need for our return. Convince him you have only gone against his dictates because of the dire circumstances in which you found yourself.’

  This was exactly what she’d feared. ‘I am quite capable of presenting my own case, Cecil, thank you.’

  Violet compensated for her shortness by resting her hand on Cecil’s sleeve and giving him an understanding pat, reminiscent of the kind one would offer a faithful hound. ‘India, that’s unnecessarily rude. Cecil is trying to do his best for you. Don’t be so churlish.’

  Not bothering to respond India brought her crop down on her horse’s flanks and took off with Violet’s cry of disgust echoing in her ears. She didn’t look back. She’d got herself into this situation and she would be the one to take the matter up with Papa. Not Cecil.

  She crossed the river and entered Helligen through the back paddocks, gulping in the sweet fresh air. It was such a relief to be home. She could breathe again. Think again. And think she would have to do before she faced Papa. She picked up the driveway below the mares’ paddock and slowed to a trot only when she reached the fig trees flanking the house.

  The courtyard was empty save for the kookaburra that offered a raucous welcome from his perch on the open stable door. A string of washing billowed in the breeze and white butterflies flitted around Peggy’s cabbages, searching for crevices to lay their eggs.

  She dismounted and loosened the girth before allowing her horse to drink, then tied the slip rope to the hitching post. The buggy could not be far behind and Fred could deal with everything when he arrived. She had other things on her mind. Who first? Papa or Mama? Better still, Peggy. An easier reception would give her time to collect her thoughts and find out how the land lay.

  As always, the kitchen door stood ajar. Peggy’s ample rump welcomed her. Head as good as stuck in the oven, her muffled mutterings peppered the warm air.

  ‘I’m back.’

  ‘Sweet Mary and Jesus, you made me jump.’ Peggy straightened up, almost dropping the tray of scones in her hands. ‘What are you doing here? I imagined you arriving in Sydney. Swanning around Potts Point with the upper crust.’

  India unhooked her hat from around her neck and dropped it onto the table. ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘Nothing changes. What have you done this time?’

  ‘It’s not so much what I’ve done but what Jim’s done.’

  ‘Oh, not again. That man’s more trouble than he’s worth.’ Peggy wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Tea?’

  India nodded. She’d made the right decision. Tea and comfort, then she’d face Papa. She pulled out her favourite chair and sat at the table, elbows resting on the weathered surface.

  ‘Well?’ Peggy asked, spooning leaves into the big brown teapot.

  ‘I went to the gaol.’

  Peggy flashed her a look from beneath her eyebrows and reached for the kettle. ‘You spoke to him then, told him.’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  The water hissed and spat and most of it ended up in the teapot. Peggy plonked it onto the table and reached for two cups. ‘I’m waiting. Spit it out for goodness sake. I can’t stand the suspense.’

  ‘He wasn’t there.’

  ‘Wasn’t there? But Mr Kilhampton hasn’t left the place to get the charges dropped. He couldn’t have sent anyone, either. I would have known. Fred was with you. And Tom Bludge has been sleeping off the devil’s own hangover. He couldn’t have put one foot in front of another.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Her face flushed. If it were so difficult to tell Peggy, how on earth would she face Papa? ‘I sent Fred and Violet ahead to Morpeth and went to the gaol. As you suggested.’

  ‘Me? I did no such thing. Just said it would be nice for him to know the charges weren’t hanging over his head. I didn’t expect you to go there. Thought you’d send Fred or something.’

  That thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. If she was honest she’d rather hoped she might see him. ‘I went. When I got there I asked to see Jim and—’

  ‘Jim? He was arrested as James Cobb. You didn’t—’

  ‘Yes, I did.’ She hung her head. ‘I didn’t even think.’

  Peggy pursed her lips and gave the teapot three aggressive twists. ‘And …’

  ‘I ended up seeing the governor.’

  ‘The governor. The governor of Maitland Gaol.’ Peggy shuddered. ‘Foul place. Nasty man, I’ve heard tell.’

  The sounds of the wailing women echoed in India’s ears. ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’ She had to spit it out. Get it over and done with. In some strange way she was pleased Jim had escaped. At least her foolishness hadn’t made it worse. Not yet, anyway. ‘He’d escaped.’ There, she’d said it.

  ‘Oh Lordy. What did he go and do that for? How? No-one gets out of that place. The walls are six feet thick. I saw the blocks they quarried from round Morpeth way. Huge, they were. How did he get out?’

  ‘I don’t rightly know. The governor implied he wasn’t alone.’

  Peggy tut-tutted the tea into a cup; added milk and two large spoonfuls of sugar, then pushed it across to India. ‘Not a nice place. Gaols aren’t. My mother came here on one of them convict ships. The stories she used to tell. And the chains. Manacles. They chain them like dogs, you know. Worse than dogs, big steel collars.’

  Now for the rest. ‘It was awful. I could hear the women wailing and children crying. The place was like a vision from hell. Something from Gulliver’s Travels. I thought he was
going to keep me there.’ She hiccupped back a sob.

  ‘Drink your tea. It’ll make you feel better.’

  Sniffing at the steam she flattened her fingers around the cup and sipped the comforting brew. ‘I had to get Cecil to come and rescue me.’

  Peggy rocked back and let out a long drawn-out sigh. ‘Oh. And I suppose he did, since you’re here and not locked up. I bet that went down like a sack of potatoes.’

  ‘Actually, he was kindness itself. He took me back to the inn. We all spent the night there. Violet was insufferable, but in the end I managed to talk Cecil into coming back here instead of taking the steamer to Sydney.’

  ‘Cecil Bryce and Violet are back here? Where are they?’

  ‘Probably entering the courtyard as we speak. I rode ahead. I wanted to let you know and maybe get to Papa before Cecil had the opportunity. I’d say that’s the final death knell to my chances of ever running Helligen.’

  ‘We’ll see, we’ll see. Drink up.’ Peggy followed her own instructions. ‘And do we know where Cobb is?’

  India shrugged her shoulders. ‘No idea. I’d put money on him coming back here. He won’t leave Jefferson. It’s just a question of how long it takes him. Whether they catch him.’ And put him in irons and send him God-only-knows-where to serve out a hefty sentence for escaping. ‘They have gallows in the compound at Maitland Gaol.’

  ‘Ssh. Now. We’ll worry about that later. Right now we’ve got to decide what to do with that sister of yours and Mr Cecil Bryce. That puts my menu up the spout. Jilly!’ Peggy bustled out into the scullery. ‘Go and prepare the guest room for Mr Bryce, right now. I want clean sheets and the place perfect. We don’t want to give him any chance to complain.’

  Jilly’s eyes expanded to the size of saucers and India offered her a watery smile as the girl bobbed a curtsy. Serve her right for eavesdropping. Now her curiosity would be killing her.

  ‘Off you go, girl. No time to waste.’

  ‘And you, missy. You get yourself out there. Make sure Violet goes straight to her room and show Mr Bryce to his. Your father’s locked in that library of his and that’s where we want him to stay. Once you’ve done that, go and have a word with your mother. She needs to know what’s going on.’

  ‘Mama?’ Not Mama. What would she say? I’ve come to tell you about my day. She couldn’t. ‘I can’t, Peggy.’

  ‘Yes, you can. And yes, you will. Your mother is in a much better place since that wretched horse came back and we all know she can wrap Mr Kilhampton around her little finger. Go on. Off you go. Soonest said, soonest mended.’

  ‘Least said, Peggy, least said.’

  ‘Not in this case, my girl. Off you go and take your medicine.’

  India gulped back the rest of her tea. Life without Peggy would be intolerable. She threw her arms around Peggy and dropped a kiss on her soft cheek. ‘Thank you, Peggy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  ‘Humph! Get a move on.’ A pleased flush stained Peggy’s cheeks making India want to cry. From this moment on she’d remember just how much she owed Peggy. She was her rock. Right from the moment she’d walked up the path from the village and picked up the job after Mama’s accident.

  As she returned to the courtyard the buggy appeared around the bend. Fred brought it to a halt and Cecil tumbled out and offered Violet his arm; she smiled prettily as he handed her down. Violet was so much more suited to Cecil. She thrived on his attentions whereas they drove her to distraction. He wasn’t a terrible man. Just not for her. She didn’t want to be mollycoddled like some hothouse orchid; she belonged here, at Helligen, where she was needed.

  ‘You made good time.’ Violet adjusted her hat with one hand and held tightly onto Cecil’s arm with the other, almost as though she would never, ever let him escape.

  ‘I took a shortcut through the paddocks. I’ve had a word with Peggy. The guest room is being prepared for Cecil. Can you show him up there? Peggy’s busy in the kitchen. We’ve disrupted her menu.’

  ‘I certainly hope not,’ Cecil said. ‘I’m looking forward to a hearty country meal.’

  ‘I’m sure Peggy will manage. I’m going to go and see Mama, unless you’d like to, Violet?’ She couldn’t resist the jibe.

  ‘Oh goodness, I couldn’t. Just look at me covered in the dust from the road. I shall see Papa at dinner. Maybe Mama will join us. Can you let them know Cecil is here?’

  India curbed a grin. ‘Yes, I can do that. You make sure Cecil is comfortable and I’ll see Mama.’

  ‘It sounds like a perfect solution to me. Come along, Cecil. We’ll use the front door. I won’t subject you to the back entrance.’ Violet’s heels click-clacked along the verandah and she disappeared around the corner with Cecil in tow.

  ‘Fred.’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ Fred had a new tone in his voice. It sounded as though the last few days had made him grow up a bit.

  ‘I can leave you to sort everything out here, can’t I?’

  He gave her a curt nod, turned on his heel and then turned back. ‘Miss?’

  ‘I have to go and speak with my mother,’ she said, impatient to be gone. Surely Fred wasn’t going to offer her some advice.

  ‘Mr Jim, miss. He will be all right, won’t he? I don’t like to think of him chasing across the country with a bunch of ne’er-do-wells. He’s not like that. It’s not where he belongs. He should be here, on Helligen with Jefferson and Goodfellow.’ He scratched his head. ‘He’ll come back, won’t he? Come back for Jefferson. He’ll leave the old boy, but he won’t leave Jefferson. He’s proud of that horse.’

  Well, that made two of them. She wasn’t alone in her belief Jim would return. ‘He may well do that, Fred.’

  ‘And if he does, miss. I won’t be telling nobody. ’Specially not Mr Kilhampton. I promise you that.’ Fred turned on his heel to walk away then whipped around and glared at her. ‘He shouldn’t have called the constables. That was a downright mean trick to pull. Mr Jim didn’t steal that horse. His father did. He can’t be responsible for what his father did. Half the country would still be in chains if that was the case.’

  He had a point there. A very good point. Hundreds of sons and daughters of convicts had made their lives a success, and she’d never heard of any held responsible for their fathers’ crimes. ‘If Jim turns up you let me know, Fred. And in the meantime, look after the horses. Jefferson especially.’

  ‘I’ll do that, miss. I’ll do that.’ He doffed his cap. ‘Can’t stand around here gossiping. Man’s got his work to do.’

  ‘Indeed he has, Fred. And thank you.’

  She tossed him a smile and left him to his work. He was a good kid. And he was right. Jim couldn’t be held responsible for any crime his father had committed. After all, he’d brought the stolen goods back to their rightful owner. It wouldn’t stand up in court. Any judge worth his salt would throw it right out. And she had every intention of speaking up, even if it meant incurring Papa’s wrath.

  She walked under the covered walkway and through the back door to the main house. As always she paused at the bottom of the stairs and ran her hand over the smooth cedar banister, inhaling the lingering scent of beeswax and lavender. After a moment she lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs. For the first time in her life she couldn’t wait to see Mama, to admit to her foolishness and share her burden. Peggy said she was ‘in a better place’. What did that mean? Goodfellow’s return had made such a difference to Mama’s outlook, even Violet thought so. She knocked on the door mouthing the same old refrain. Habit got the better of her as the door opened and Anya’s face appeared. ‘I’ve come to see Mama and tell her of my day. Days, actually, Anya.’

  The door swung open. The curtains billowed in the breeze and a patch of sunlight illuminated the jewel-coloured carpet on the floor. The bath chair had gone and the bed was made, pillows plumped and the pristine white coverlet glowing. She spun around. ‘Mama!’

  ‘India. How lovely. What do you think?’ Mama turned from the mirror,
her grey-blonde hair catching the light in a series of intricate braids that pulled back from her face and collected in heavy strands at the nape of her neck. She looked so … well, she looked beautiful.

  ‘I feel quite like a young girl again. Do you remember when I used to braid your hair? You hated it! I used to sit you on the kitchen table and Peggy would bribe you with biscuits to make you stay still. Your hair was always such a tangle. We have thick hair. You’ve inherited that from me.’ She patted the sides of her head and turned this way and that.

  ‘It looks lovely, Mama.’ Their eyes caught in the mirror, grey reflecting grey. She’d never noticed how alike they were.

  ‘But wait a moment. What are you doing here? I thought you’d gone to Morpeth with Violet to meet Cecil. Anya?’

  Anya nodded. ‘Yes, they went to Morpeth.’

  ‘Then why are you back here so soon? Why aren’t you in Sydney?’

  ‘That’s why I came to speak to you.’

  ‘Oh, and I thought it was to tell me about your day.’ Mama’s look, reflected in the mirror, showed no sign of confusion. How long had she hidden behind the wall she’d built to save herself from day to day reality?

  ‘Cecil and Violet are back here as well. I was hoping you would join us for dinner.’

  ‘I think I’ve made myself presentable for dinner. What do you think, Anya?’

  ‘You are always presentable in my eyes.’

  ‘Enough of this nonsense.’ Mama turned to face her. ‘Sit down, there on the bed, and tell me what you’re doing back and about Cecil and Violet. I don’t want to cause any problems.’ Her lips twitched as though she knew every bit how difficult Violet could be.

  ‘I took matters into my own hands.’ It was so important to get this right, so important the story Mama related to Papa didn’t inflame the situation. Papa must understand what she had done and why. ‘Papa said he would drop the charges against Jim and I wanted him to know so that he had some hope. I called into Maitland Gaol.’

  ‘And because you wanted to ensure Jim had survived his ordeal.’

  ‘Yes.’ She inclined her head. She couldn’t meet Mama’s eyes. Instead of seeing past her they now bored into her very soul, as though her mind was an open book.