“Would you like me to buy it for you, my dear?”
“Yes please. I can wear it to the ball. My gown is green so it will be a perfect match.”
“You don't mind if I buy the pendant, George? Take the money out of my account. Oh, and transfer a hundred pounds to the school building fund, will you? I promised them a donation.”
“All right. It’s a generous gesture, Adam, especially when you’ve already provided the land.”
“Keep your voice down, I don’t want everyone knowing my business. We need a school. All children should receive an education no matter how poor their parents are, and I don’t mind putting up the money to ensure they do.”
“What happens now, about the Lindsays, I mean?”
“Don't give them any credit. It's quite obvious they need money. This is probably the only valuable thing Tommy Lindsay possessed. Don't you see, for her to sell it so cheaply, they must be desperate?” He grinned; things were working out even better than he anticipated.
“You can be a hard man, Adam.”
“Yes, if it’s necessary. Here, Sophia, my dear, let me put this trinket on for you.” The moment he made the offer he regretted it. All of a sudden the pendant felt like a lead weight in his hand.
“Thank you, it's beautiful.”
“As long as you like it.” He allowed his fingers to linger on the smooth skin at the back of her neck. She would make him a suitable wife. Socially acceptable and heir to a good property, a man couldn’t ask for anything more. Fair-haired English women were not for him. He glanced at the pendant around Sophia’s neck and the stone had lost its vibrant color. It needed soft milky white skin to enhance its beauty and bring it back to sparkling life.
****
“Stand and deliver.”
Adam pulled the horses up. Jamie Lindsay stood in front of him, a wooden pistol clenched in his chubby little hand. “I'm a highwayman.”
“You mean bushranger, don't you?” Adam suppressed a grin. The boy looked so serious, he could not laugh outright and hurt his feelings.
“Do they hold up travelers?”
“Yes, some do.”
“Who's the pretty lady?”
“The pretty lady is Miss Bothroyd.”
“Will you marry her?”
Adam laughed out loud at this. What a fine little fellow, even if his name was Lindsay.
“Come on, Adam, we should be going, mother and father will be waiting for us.”
“In a minute, the boy is playing a little game with us. Why spoil his fun?”
Touser bounded out now, causing the horses to stamp nervously.
“Down boy, you're frightening Mr. Munro’s horses.” The dog flopped to the ground beside the child. “See how I trol him. Tommy says you have to trol a dog.”
“You mean control, don't you, little boy?”
“That's what I said. Tommy did too.” He glared at Sophia. Adam catching the expression decided his eyes matched those of his sister. “Tommy says I have to go to school next year.”
Adam sensed Sophia's impatience, but he enjoyed the boy's prattle.
“Tommy said I couldn’t go to Eton like David.”
“Eton?” Sophia gave a derisive laugh. “The working classes wouldn’t be accepted at Eton, even if some do-gooder did pay their fees.”
“I don't like you, lady. David did go to Eton.” Jamie shook his fist at her. “So there.” He poked his tongue out to emphasize his feelings. “I don't tell lies. Tommy says God punishes people who lie.”
“I believe you, boy. You’d better run along home now, your sister might be wondering where you are.” No valid reason for it, but he just could not bring himself to utter her name.
Jamie scampered off with Touser at his heels.
“What a horrible, common child. So cheeky and ill-mannered.”
Adam’s eyes narrowed. Without a word he slapped the horses’ rumps with the reins and set them into motion.
****
The heat continued unabated, the sun scorching the landscape without mercy, as if the gates of hell had opened up to spew out surplus fire. David spent most of his time training Warrior for the annual steeplechase held on Adam Munro’s station.
“This is madness,” Tommy told David one afternoon when he returned to the homestead red in the face and dripping with perspiration. “You’ll end up getting sunstroke. No amount of money is worth this kind of risk.”
“I’m all right. We have to win this race. The twenty pound purse will be handy, but it’s the publicity I want for Warrior. I’m desperate, you know that.”
She had become acclimatized now, but always wore a wide-brimmed hat and avoided being outside during the hottest part of the day. She didn’t want to end up with a brick red leathery complexion, like some of the women she saw in town.
Warrior was in peak condition. She had never seen him look so well. David seemed stronger, with a light tan replacing the previous pallor of his skin but he drove himself too hard.
They went hunting on a number of occasions. Even in the dry conditions wild game abounded. David brought down a wallaby, which she made into soup. It tasted strange at first, although after a few mouthfuls she grew to like its rather gamey flavor.
If only her friends in England could see her now. She flipped through the dog-eared pages of the Frontier Woman’s Handbook she had found in the dresser drawer.
Parrot pie sounded interesting and parrots, in a multitude of gaudy colors, abounded. Squawking creatures filled every tree.
There was a recipe for scented soap, if you couldn’t afford to buy any. You boiled up plain soap in a saucepan, added some lavender oil, let it cool on a tray and cut it up into squares. God willing, she would never be reduced to that level of penury.
****
“Ten ewes were killed last night, boss. I found the carcasses this morning.”
Adam swore savagely. “Saddle my horse, Barney, while I get my gun.” He strode into the homestead slamming the door behind him. Over the last few days he had lost more than fifty sheep. He'd put a bullet in any bloody dog he found within a mile of this place.
By the time he collected his gun and filled his pocket with cartridges, Barney waited outside with the horses. They rode in silence, and all the while Adam’s fury built up.
He let out a string of curses when he came to the slaughtered sheep. If those marauding mongrels killed one for food he would not have minded so much, but senseless, wanton slaughter. Black crows already covered the carcasses and he felt tempted to turn his gun on the dirty scavengers. It would be a waste of bullets as others would soon replace any he killed.
Surprisingly they found only one set of paw marks. Too large for a native dog so the culprit had to be a domestic one. It could not have been any of the station dogs; they were always locked up at night.
They dismounted, leading their horses and walking slowly, stopping every now and again to take a closer look at the dusty ground where the paw marks showed up. They headed towards the Lindsay place. One of their dogs must have been let loose, probably on purpose. Adam ground his teeth with rage.
The shot when it came startled him. Who would be shooting on his land?
He watched a bird plummeting earthwards. Another shot rang out, followed by another.
“Three shots for three hits, that’s good shooting, Mr. Munro. Wonder who it is.”
A black shape bounded out from behind a clump of trees. “Good boy, Touser. Fetch, fetch.” Jamie Lindsay charged after the dog.
“What are you doing here, boy?” Adam demanded.
A smile spread across the child's face. “Touser's a hunting dog.”
“Is he? I thought he was your pet.”
“He is, but a hunting dog, too.” Touser dropped a parrot at his young master's feet. “Good dog, fetch.” With tongue lolling and barking excitedly Touser started off again.
“Well, if it isn't Mr. Munro.”
Adam swung around to find himself facing Tommy Lindsay, who held
a gun in her hands.
“Miss Lindsay.” He touched his hat.
“Tommy shot three parrots. We're going to have them in a pie.”
“You shot those birds, miss?”
Tommy smiled at the young man who wore the rough garb of a stockman. “Yes, I did.”
“Good shooting. Did you hear that, boss?”
“I heard. You're shooting on my property, Miss Lindsay.”
“Really, Mr. Munro? I shoot when and where I like. I haven't come across any law saying I can't.”
“It’s called trespassing.”
Touser dropping another bird at Jamie's feet interrupted them.
“Hey, boss, this could be the dog. It's big enough to make those paw marks.”
“Is this dog locked up at night?” Adam demanded.
Tommy blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me the first time. Some rogue dog has been mauling my sheep and I think it’s him.”
Touser bounded up to drop the third bird at her feet. “Good dog.” She patted his head.
“Touser's a hunting dog. Touser's a hunting dog.” Jamie rushed up.
“The foot prints fit, boss. I reckon it's him.”
In two angry strides Adam made it to his horse and reached for his gun.
“No, you can't. He's Jamie's dog.”
“He's turned sheep killer,” Adam snarled.
“Where's your proof?” She stared him straight in the face.
“I don't need any more proof.”
She had never seen such raw fury in anyone's eyes before.
“Please, I'll make sure he's locked up at night,” she pleaded as he calmly inserted a bullet. “You can't, you beast.” She lunged for the rifle. Her shock attack took him by surprise and she wrenched it out of his hand.
He advanced towards her, rigid with anger. “Give me my gun.”
“No.” She backed away.
“Drop it.” He grasped her arm. “Now, Miss Lindsay, drop it.”
“I won't.”
“Drop it, or so help me—”
“Boss, you might hurt her.”
“Drop the gun.”
“You're hurting Tommy.” Jamie lunged at him, his small fists flaying the air. He lashed out with his feet and Adam cursed as a booted foot caught his shin.
Tommy jerked free. “Run, Jamie.”
With a loud woof, Touser bounded off in the opposite direction to his young master. From the corner of her eye she saw Adam take aim at the dog.
“No!” She flung herself at him. The impact caused him to drop the gun as she knocked him off balance, and the bullet whistled harmlessly into the air.
“You stupid little fool, are you trying to get yourself killed?” A muscle convulsed in his jaw. He lay flat on his back with her lying on top of him, their faces almost touching. She felt the soft caress of his fingers against her hair or perhaps it was the stirring of a gentle morning breeze.
She smelled his scent, a potent mixture of shaving soap, leather and hot male skin.
He rolled out from under her, grasped her hands, and in one swift movement, they were both on their feet again.
“You're hurting Tommy.” Jamie rushed at him, flinging himself at Adam, kicking and screaming. Touser bounded into the fray also. Jamie's arms and legs flayed into Adam, the dog jumped up and down barking, while Tommy tried to drag her little brother away.
“Darling, it's all right.” She managed to disentangle him. “Down, Touser.” The dog came to heel and ceased his excited yelping.
“Let's go home.” She took Jamie’s hand, but he shook it free and took a couple of paces towards Adam, who stood dusting himself down.
“You hurt Tommy.” He scrubbed at his eyes. “I'm not your friend any more. I…I hate you.”
The color receded from Adam's face, and Tommy saw a muscle convulse in his jaw.
“Let's go home.” Jamie clung to her hand as they hurried away.
“Miss Lindsay!”
She swung around. “Yes.”
“Keep that ugly mutt locked up. If I find him within a mile of this place, I'll shoot him.”
Jamie sobbed so hard she hoped he didn’t hear Adam’s final ultimatum. The parrots were forgotten, they would never venture near this place again. Touser would have to be tied up at night and when he wasn't with Jamie. She could not risk him wandering over here again. Adam Munro was too ruthless not to keep his word. He wouldn’t care that the dog had become a lonely little boy's friend.
She felt hot, dusty and exhausted as she carried Jamie some of the way. It distressed her to hear him sob in such a terrible, heartbroken manner.
Once at home, David’s few choice words about Adam Munro were not fit for the child’s ears.
Tommy took hours to settle Jamie down. He didn’t understand about Adam’s wanting to shoot the dog, thank goodness. What upset him so much was the fact he thought the tyrant might hurt her.
If Touser attacked those sheep he should be put down. Adam wanted to shoot the animal without even bothering to find out his guilt or innocence, that’s what rankled. There must be dozens of other large dogs in the area.
****
In the middle of the night, Jamie woke up screaming. Finally, so they could get some sleep as David was leaving early next morning for Wangaratta with Jim, Tommy took him into her bed. She cuddled him close. No matter what happened, no one would be allowed to harm the dog.
After David had eaten breakfast and been collected by Jim, she decided to have a lie down for an hour or so. Her head throbbed, a combination of interrupted sleep and nervous strain from their nasty experience yesterday.
“Jamie, I'm just going back to bed for a while, so don't wander off, will you?”
“Are you sick?” He peered into her face.
“No, I've just got a headache. If I have a short rest it will go away, then we might have a picnic lunch down by the lagoon. Would you like that?”
“Mr. Munro didn't mean to hurt you, did he?”
“No, it was all a misunderstanding.” Why didn't she take this opportunity to damn the squatter?
“I have to tell him I'm sorry I kicked him.”
“Tell him next time we see him.”
Jamie darted off outside and she went to the bedroom and laid down. Her head throbbed so badly she feared it might burst wide open.
When Tommy woke up her headache had disappeared, so had Jamie. She searched the house before going outside to find him.
“Jamie.” No reply from him, or answering bark from Touser.
“Jamie, where are you?” She checked all the outbuildings, darting to and fro in rising panic. Stay calm and think, woman. He can't have gone far. Ah, the lagoon, of course. Probably got tired of waiting for her to organize the picnic and went on ahead.
You’re an idiot Tommy Lindsay, getting yourself into such a state for nothing. She reached the lagoon. No sign of him. Panic turned to sheer terror. Perhaps he had fallen in and drowned. Sobs rose up in her throat and tears filled her eyes as she dashed to the water's edge. Fear, such as she had never known before, held her captive in a vicious vice-like grip. Cruel and relentless it crushed her spirit and she sank to the ground. On her hands and knees she frantically looked around. Thank God. No footprints or paw marks in the mud. She sat there for a moment or two until she regained her composure.
“I have to tell him I’m sorry for kicking him.” She scrambled up, ignoring the stains on her skirt. Surely Jamie would not have tried to go all the way over there. The more she thought about it the more reasonable the scenario became. He would be anxious to make friends with Adam again.
She dashed into the homestead, washed the mud off her face and hands then changed into a pair of David's old pants and one of his shirts. It would be easier scouring the countryside in men’s clothing, safer too. If her friends in England saw her dressed in male attire, they would be mortified.
After saddling up her horse, she remembered to put on a wide brimmed hat, and to grab a cant
een of water. There was a track of sorts she could follow.
How much start did he have? Two or three hours at least. Her hunch proved correct, after only a short time she noticed foot prints and paw marks in the dust. As long as he stuck to the track he would be all right. When the track became so rough the foot prints disappeared she fought against rising panic.
On and on she traveled, calling out every now and again, but got no answering cry or bark. Jamie had always been a sturdy little chap, and with Touser by his side he would not come to any harm. If she didn’t believe this she would go mad.
She should have caught up with him by now. Maybe he ran into one of Adam's men or even the big boss man himself. They would realize how frantic she would be at finding him missing and bring him home. Adam might be ruthless but he wouldn’t be that devoid of decency.
If she kept blundering around in the bush she would get lost. She needed help, and Adam Munro was the closest. I wouldn’t ask you for help for a king’s ransom normally, but for Jamie I’d walk through the gates of hell and grovel at the feet of the devil himself.
She spied a wisp of smoke from a campfire and headed towards it. The scrub became so dense she had to dismount and go the rest of the way on foot. Her breath came out in short, labored pants and she felt light-headed from the heat. Stumbling into a clearing, she saw Adam and two other men standing around a camp fire drinking from tin mugs.
“Mr. Munro.” She called out.
“What’s wrong?” He strode towards her.
“You have to help me.” She staggered into his arms. Momentarily she felt his arms tighten around her waist, hard, strong and somehow comforting. He loosened his grip, whipped her hat off with one hand, and cupped her chin with the other so he could stare straight into her face.
“Now, little English rose, compose yourself and tell me why you’re traipsing around the countryside dressed in men's clothing.”
He pushed her away and stepped back a pace, cursing the fact he felt like drowning in the deep blue depths of her tear-drenched eyes. He wanted to drag her back into his arms again, kiss all the hurt and anxiety away. Rocking back on his heels, he hooked his fingers into his belt in case he gave way to the temptation.
She scrubbed the tears away with her knuckles. “It's Jamie.”
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