Haunted Creek

by Ann Cliff

  ‘Rose did very well.’

  ‘How’s Luke getting on with the clearing?’ Erik wanted to know. ‘I’m doing the same thing myself, but of course I’ve been here longer than he has. It’s hard, slow work, making a farm out of the forest.’

  Rose nodded. ‘Yes, I’m hoping he will get some more land cleared soon, and cut some wood for a proper house. He’s not at home at the moment.’ Both the Jensens looked at her with serious faces. ‘Luke has gone looking for gold, to get some money together, you see.’

  There was a short silence and then Freda said quietly, ‘Perhaps he should have stayed with you just a little longer.’ So he should, but what could she do? Freda must be worried about her.

  Erik cut in quickly. ‘I’m sure Rose can look after herself very well!’ His eyes were bright; his smile lit up the room. ‘You’ll soon get acclimatized. There’s so much to enjoy – you’re a country girl, yes? If you love being outdoors, this is the place for you.’ The cheerful words made her feel less afraid.

  ‘I do. I like growing things,’ Rose told him, striving for calm. ‘Looking after animals, too. I’m used to sheep and cattle.’ She paused and changed the subject. ‘Do you farm with your father, Erik?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid he died before I was born. He was a sea captain, not a farmer – he came from Sweden.’ Freda’s eyes went to a framed photograph of a bearded man in naval uniform. She was a widow, and she had survived.

  After the meal, Rose was taken on a tour of their little farm and she managed to keep her distance from Erik, walking beside Freda. The disturbed feeling slowly subsided but a sort of glow remained.

  The first thing she saw was a neat vegetable garden, with rows of beans, tomatoes and potatoes. Here too were all the herbs that Rose and her grandmother had grown and others as well. Carefully, Freda pulled sprigs from some of the plants and gave them to Rose. ‘Take these cuttings; they should put down roots if you keep them watered in soft earth.’ The strong scents of rosemary, lavender and mint brought back memories of her old home. ‘You’ll find that they grow all the year round here.’

  The Jensens’ land was divided by wood and wire fences into fields that had been sown with grass and clover. There was a substantial stack of hay and a few farm buildings made from slabs of bark, rather neater than the hut Rose lived in. One enclosure held pigs and Erik explained that once the big trees were cleared, the pigs rooted out the bushes, turned over the land and manured it.

  There was a flower garden round the house and Rose wondered how she could ever develop a garden from the dusty, parched earth round her hut. It seemed so easy here, where everything was neat and orderly. ‘It’s all wonderful, but what I like best is your house,’ she admitted. The roof was of corrugated iron and it had gutters connected to a rainwater tank. These folks had no need to go down to the creek for water; the tank would collect it from the roof every time it rained.

  ‘Luke can do the same thing, it’s not too difficult. But now, of course, I’m saving for more land. We need more stock to make a proper living.’ When Erik spoke he gave her all his attention.

  ‘Of course, Luke is a countryman too,’ Freda put in. ‘Town folks have a harder time of it. How long have you been married, Rose? I gather you were married in England, you must have known Luke for a long time.’ They were both watching her reaction. ‘So you’ll know how to handle him, of course.’

  It was hard to tell what that meant. ‘Well, we went to the same school, but I didn’t see much of him until … until he decided to come here and asked me to join him. We were only married for a week or two before he left.’ Rose glanced at Freda. ‘He should be successful, don’t you think?’

  Freda nodded, but doubtfully. ‘As long as he sticks to a plan, and you may have to help him to do that. Now, Rose, if you pick some blackberries where I did, you’ll be able to make some jam.’

  ‘That’s a pleasant young woman,’ Freda said to her son as Rose went off down the track. ‘But I wish her luck with that husband of hers. I wonder if she knows what he’s really like?’

  Erik picked up his hammer and some nails. ‘He might settle down, now that she’s arrived. I hope so. We’d better keep an eye on her, just in case of trouble. She’s got character; she’ll make a settler before too long.’ He laughed in his carefree way. ‘Pity there aren’t a few more nice girls in these parts. Now, how high do you want this top rail? I know there’s a plan, but I’m making it up as I go along.’

  Freda looked at the rail, measuring it with her eye. ‘That’s about right, where it is now … I think young Luke should grow up a little. We all know what’s been going on in Moe, although Rose won’t have heard of it.’

  Erik hammered in a nail violently. ‘That bloke’s had plenty of time to clear some of his land but he hasn’t been there often enough. It’s not fair to his wife.’

  That night Rose sat beside the fire, listening to the bush waking up as the creatures of the night started their activities. The usual twittering and rustling, the croaking of frogs and the whine of a mosquito was becoming the familiar background as the sun set. She would manage quite well without Luke. She had even found out from Freda how to remove That Spider and his friends from the hut. You clamped a basin over the thing, slid a piece of paper under him and then he was trapped and you could take him outside. This was priceless knowledge.

  Gradually Rose became aware of a new sound: a low moaning, coming from among the trees at the back of the hut. The sound rose and fell like a lament and died away on a sobbing wail. Rose felt herself go cold as she listened. When it started up again after a few minutes, she gave herself a mental shake. What would her grandmother have said?

  ‘Right, Grandmother, I will face it,’ Rose muttered and walked firmly to the trees. In the last of the light she looked up at the branches, dark against the sky, just where the sound was coming from. Was it a bird? As her eyes got used to the darkness she was able to see that two branches were rubbing together, moving with the variable wind. As the branches moved, the sound rose and fell.

  No doubt, Rose thought as she went to bed, all the strange noises in the bush had an explanation and one day she would understand them all. The real danger was not the howls, shrieks and moans, but fire. She had never seen anything burn so quickly as gum leaves and she would make sure that the fire was out every time she left the hut.

  If Luke could build a house like Erik had done … At the thought of Erik, she blushed in the darkness. Erik was a potential danger just like fire; his intensity could consume you.

  About midnight, Rose woke to the sound of voices. Men were tramping past the hut, talking as they went. Who were they, out at this time of night? She cowered in the bed, afraid they would knock at the door. They seemed to stop and she heard one say, ‘That’s Teesdale’s place but he’s never there. He’s done nothing with it.’ He was relieving himself on the path – she could hear him. ‘I’ll give him some fertilizer.’

  There was a coarse laugh and another voice said, ‘Well, we all know where he spends his days and nights, don’t we?’ The men moved off down the track.

  FOUR

  ‘PISS OFF!’

  Rose jumped in alarm as the hoarse voice cut into her thoughts. She was wandering by the creek in the cool of the evening, picking up stones and putting them into a bag lying on the bank. ‘What you want the bloody stones for, anyway?’

  On a rock by the side of the creek was a big, wide-brimmed hat, underneath which was a bushy black beard. There must be a bad-tempered man under there somewhere, thought Rose, but he was not visible. A younger man lounged nearby. Were they bushrangers? They looked like outlaws, rough and dirty.

  ‘I thought everybody was friendly round here,’ Rose said to the hat, her heart beating quickly. She had nothing worth stealing, so why should they bother with her?

  ‘We’re on a selection just up there. Teesdale’s it’s called. I’m picking up stones to make a fireplace. That’s all.’

  It was the day after her fright
and Rose had decided to make a safer place for the fire before she tried to cook again. ‘My name is Rose Teesdale,’ she offered.

  The man spread large hands in a gesture of disgust, twisted and gnarled by age, crusted with dirt. ‘Waste of time. Go back to where you belong – this country is no good for the likes of you. You’ll be eaten by dogs or bit by snakes down here.’ He sniggered. ‘And that’s if the blokes don’t get to you first. We’re short of women in the bush – it makes us ready for anything.’

  ‘I’m ready for anything,’ the younger man said with a leer. ‘How about it, missus?’ He had a face like a rat.

  ‘Now look …’ Rose began, ignoring the leer. ‘We’re hoping to start a little farm. There are other families here, doing the same thing. Maybe you have a farm yourself, but surely there’s room for all of us.’ It was better not to think about the outlaws.

  ‘I’m no bloody farmer. I belong to the bush,’ the hat growled. ‘But I’m warning you for yer own good, Haunted Creek is no place for a woman. There’s things down here as you didn’t ought to meddle with, see. And there’s ghosts as well, that come crowding in on dark nights … down the Haunted Creek.’ He paused, evidently for effect, and went on in a hoarse whisper, ‘Have you heard dingoes howling in the dark of the night? Well, one night they’ll be howling at your door!’ His voice rose on the last words.

  In spite of herself, a shiver ran through Rose. ‘I suppose you say that to all the women you meet. Maybe you should be on the stage!’ She turned for home but continued at the water’s edge, choosing flat stones for her bag as she went. The sun had gone down behind the ridge, leaving the little valley in shadow. Leaves rippled in the breeze and the creek gurgled quietly on down to the Tangil River.

  Now the dusk was falling quickly, as it did here. When Rose straightened up, four men were blocking her way, all with ferocious-looking knives in their hands. She was about half a mile from home and much further from any help.

  Holding up her head, Rose walked steadily forward. Surely they wouldn’t attack her? This was supposed to be a Christian country and Queen Victoria ruled the Empire – it was not the jungle, after all.

  The rat-faced man dropped his knife suddenly and grabbed Rose in a powerful grip. ‘I’m taking her into the bushes, teach her a bit of respect. Haven’t seen a woman for months.’ His laughter was pitiless. However Rose twisted and fought, she was caught fast. His arms were round her and he held her close to his body, clamping her between powerful legs while he tied her wrists. He reeked of beer and stale sweat. Dragging her away from the others with both huge hands round her breasts, he taunted her. ‘Come on, you know you like it. Women like a bit of rough play and they never get enough of it.’

  ‘Won’t you help me?” Rose screamed to the man in the hat, but he too laughed. ‘My turn next, when she’s calmed down a bit.’ She was going to be raped by the outlaw and there was nothing she could do.

  Another man called, ‘Leave this one for me, Joe, if you don’t mind.’ He came up to her, taller than the rest and moving smoothly, like a cat. His face was scarred, perhaps with a knife like the one he held. ‘Benny, give her to me. I want her. You owe me, y’know. I helped you out last week.’

  The cultured voice was even more sinister than the rough voices of the other men. He was as unkempt as the others and his right hand twirled the big knife dangerously.

  ‘You want the bitch? She’s probably no good for fun anyway. Too respectable.’ The man holding Rose gradually let go and the tall man took her arm and marched her down the track.

  The villain was looking down at Rose with a strange expression. If she could keep him talking, she thought desperately, maybe she could appeal to his better nature. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘We’re bush workahs, that’s who we are.’ It was not the voice of a worker. But he was obviously a rapist; the upper classes sometimes took it as a right.

  The hat man shouted, ‘Make sure you teach her a lesson, Lordy,’ as she was pulled into the shadow of the trees.

  ‘Please untie me and let me go home.’ Rose looked up at the man who held her with one powerful hand, the other holding a knife close to her throat. He was still edging her away from the other men.

  The man they called Lordy looked to be the most dangerous of the four, lean and very agile. As soon as trees hid them from view, he cut the ropes on her wrists, but still held her.

  Rose was almost fainting from fright. ‘Please … let me go,’ she gasped. But the man smiled evilly and kept on walking for several minutes. Then he stopped and backed her up against a big tree. This was it … Rose closed her eyes. It might be over more quickly if she didn’t fight.

  ‘Just get your breath back,’ Lordy said. He stepped away and looked at her as she opened her eyes. ‘I want to apologize for frightening you,’ he said quietly. ‘Please allow me to escort you home, Mrs Teesdale.’

  Rose had no alternative but to walk beside him back to her hut. What now? Was he going to rape her later? There was no point in running away – he would easily catch her. ‘What is all this about? Why threaten me?’ Surely there was nothing to lose by asking questions.

  ‘They don’t like strangers, as you may have gathered.’ There was a laugh in the deep voice. ‘I’m not quite so prejudiced, but it seemed best to appear to go along with the chaps. They can be quite difficult, y’know, when they really try.’

  Was it possible that Lordy had actually saved her from the others? ‘Are you … bushrangers, like Ned Kelly?’

  The tall man beside her shook his head sadly. ‘My … associates are former jail birds, I’m afraid. Incarceration sours the temper, they tell me, especially when the convict is originally innocent of crime.’ They walked on in silence until they reached the hut. It was nearly dark.

  Looming above her in the starlight, Lordy looked down at Rose and she quailed again. He had seen that the hut was deserted. Slowly, deliberately, his arm came up and he raised his hat. ‘Jasper Barrington, at your service – I should have introduced myself. My advice to you is to go to see Maeve at the All Nations hotel. Maeve is a very sensible woman and if you intend to stay here, you will need her help. Good night, Mrs Teesdale.’ He vanished into the trees, leaving Rose shaking with relief.

  As she locked up the hens and fed the goat, Rose thought about her situation. Why had Luke left her alone here? She had obviously been in real trouble, those few minutes by the creek. Did the men want to discourage settlers for some purpose of their own, or were they just looking for an excuse to assault her? And why did they all carry big knives? She would keep well away from anyone she met down there in the future … but life must go on. Perhaps she should carry a knife herself.

  Once she got her courage back, Rose thought she would go to see this woman Maeve. She might even meet Luke on his way home – he had gone that way.

  For a few days, Rose concentrated on her work. She built a ring of stones to enclose the cooking fire. She had plenty of sugar and so she picked blackberries and boiled them up to make jam, thinking that Luke would be pleased with a variation in their diet. Some of the yeast that Martha had given her was still alive and so she made good bread with the camp oven method, watching it carefully. Part of the dough was saved, to make the next batch of bread.

  One day rain fell and she collected as much as she could in pots and buckets, pouring it into the rainwater barrel. She hammered nails into the posts that framed the hut, to hang up kitchen utensils, and the kookaburras chuckled as they watched her. They were almost like friends by now.

  At the end of the week, Rose realized that it must be Sunday. How different from Sundays at Kirkby, with church bells ringing and people in their best clothes. She bathed hurriedly in the creek and put on a clean dress.

  Freda and Erik came to see her during the afternoon, bringing fresh vegetables. Rose felt uncomfortable and remembered to be on guard, but the big man was open and friendly and she soon relaxed a little. ‘I know how hard it is at first,’ Freda said, waving her thanks asi
de. ‘People tend to live on dry food, flour and sugar, and that’s not healthy.’

  ‘Luke not home yet? I want to see him.’ Erik looked round and although she had done her best to tidy up the site, their home looked very shabby to Rose as she saw it through the visitors’ eyes. ‘Onions are fetching a good price down in the valley. Luke should dig some ground and get some seed in as soon as he can. I could take yours in with ours in the cart, once you have a crop.’

  Rose sighed. ‘But there’s a lot to do first. We have to get rid of all these trees …’ She waved her hand at the surrounding bush and then drew the kettle on to the fire. ‘Let’s have a cup of tea,’ she said, hoping to change the subject.

  Freda sat down thankfully but Erik paced restlessly about, looking at the land and the patch that had been dug. ‘Good land,’ he said when he came back. ‘You could grow crops between the trees at first, you know. Get some income, while you clear the rest.’

  Rose produced some scones she had made on a plate over the fire, peppered with a few currants, and the visitors seemed impressed. ‘You sell your vegetables in Moe?’ she asked. Moe was where she had left the coach road and joined the Carrs in their bullock dray.

  ‘Mostly, although the All Nations and the miners’ camp take quite a lot. There’s a few miners left, of course. But I really want to start a dairy herd and then we could make butter and cheese.’ So this was why Luke found the big man boring. ‘And you could perhaps advise me, Rose.’ Erik smiled devastatingly at her and she felt like telling him he was wasted in the bush. Those blue eyes should have been charming the young ladies of Melbourne.

  When the visitors got up to go, Rose wished they would stay longer. ‘Come to see us as soon as Luke gets back,’ Erik said firmly. He had a touch of his mother’s schoolteacher ways, Rose thought. It had been a relief to talk to them after being reduced to conversations with the hens and the goat, although Gertrude the goat seemed very understanding. Watching the Jensens disappear out of sight, Rose decided to take Gertrude for a walk.