No questions were asked. The children needed much reassurance before we’d learn what had happened. The men caught up with us as we carried the two, and there were more tears and hugs.
I’ll never forget the expression on Katie’s face when we returned. I looked from Mother’s laughing features to Katie’s tears of joy, and my own rejoicing seemed inadequate.
The girls slept most of the day and even Mother and I took a short nap. Brendan rode home to the bay to explain our delay in returning, and in late afternoon, Little One appeared and crossed the room to Mother’s open arms.
‘I’m sorry … so sorry, Mother.’
‘It’s in the past now, love. But why didn’t you answer the men’s calls? We were so worried.’
‘We thought it was the bad man and his friend.’ Little One’s face crumpled and her eyes looked haunted.
‘What bad man?’ Mother hugged her closer.
‘The man who fired the gun at Brendan … and his friend.’
Mother drew a sharp breath. How could she answer? I knew that this could be only between Little One and Mother.
‘Oh, my dear, that man will never leave prison, and …’ she hesitated and then said firmly, ‘and the other one — he’s dead.’
Little One looked up and carefully explained: ‘You said that you were scared he’d come back. Everyone said that. We thought … we thought he was looking for me with his friends when we heard them calling. You see, it was ’cause I’d told him Paddy didn’t take all the gold.’ Her little face crumpled.
Mother’s eyes met mine and I knew that she now shared the thoughts I had had during the night.
Closing our minds to our own uncertainty about Southern’s death, we tried to reassure Little One. Later, when she was asleep, Mother joined me as I peeled potatoes for Katie’s dinner.
She whispered. ‘Oh, Mary, how terrified they must have have been! They imagined the men would take them hostage, as they did Brendan last time.’
I felt the colour drain from my cheeks, recalling Southern saying in my dream that I was to be the hostage. But no! Inwardly I shouted it. Never would he take me anywhere! I’d not let Mother have such terror.
For the first time since the nightmare I was so angry I had no fear.
LAKE ELLESMERE
Southern stood before Kell and an anxious-looking Mrs Davies. Her daughter dithered between sniggering and open fear of the convict.
‘Well? How do I look?’ he growled, freezing Annie with a narrowed glance. Disguise number eight was being assessed.
‘Walk past us just once more.’ Kell gave a quick nod to Southern and turning to Mrs Davies said, ‘Clever, isn’t he?’
Mrs Davies took a deep breath and said, ‘Yes, he’s convincing. So why does he need my Annie, and where’s he taking her?’ She glared bravely at Southern.
Kell cast an anxious glance at his mate, who casually replied, ‘We may not need her if all goes well, so quit your grizzling. I’ll do it just one more time.’
Southern, dressed in a woman’s clothing, with a clean-shaven face and no trace of the brown stain, walked across the kitchen with light steps.
‘Lower the fly-catcher,’ grinned Kell.
‘Veil!’ snapped Southern, adjusting the straw bonnet on his head and hitching the shawl across his shoulders.
The group became still with concentration on the next part.
Southern spoke in a slightly husky woman’s voice. ‘You see, we’re not from these parts. I wouldn’t be here but my dear youngest sister … God bless her soul …’ Southern raised a dishcloth under the veil and sighed convincingly. ‘It still upsets me. As the eldest, I was like a mother to her, and now … and now she’s died of the coughing sickness and left those two children orphans. We’re on our way to collect them since I must bring them up as my own, mustn’t I, dear lass?’ He put an arm about the girl’s waist. The child tensed and sprang away.
Southern swore at her and ripped the bonnet off his head.
‘How the hell can I do this if the girl’s goin’ to jump like a rabbit each time?’ He raised his hand to strike her but Kell intervened.
‘Let be!’ he hissed. ‘You’re the flighty one. As you say, we may never need her. When you get your wig, you’ll fool anyone and that should be sufficient.’
Annie moved cautiously to her mother’s side and they slipped away to the safety of the scullery.
‘I won’t have to go, will I?’ whispered Annie.
Mrs Davies looked at her pale face and put an arm around her. ‘Kell’s trying to convince him that you’re not needed. He’s choosing his time, and whatever happens, he’ll see you come to no harm. He’s not an evil man like the other one. He has to go along with what he says, though. Keeps the peace that way.’
Southern and Kell were discussing progress.
‘We’ve got all the clothes now, barring the black bonnet. You’ll have to go to town for that. Take this bonnet for size and get good quality.’
‘D’you think I’ve got a flamin’ fortune?’ growled Kell.
‘Go to a church mission and say you want a tidy bonnet for yer dear old ma.’ Southern grinned. ‘I’ll have the cash to pay you as soon as I hand in them documents on our return.’
‘So it’s to be February?’
‘Aye. Two, three weeks away at most. I need more practice side-saddle and by then the men in that valley will be moving cattle ready to burn off. With luck we’ll come out of that inland track and they won’t see us.’
Kell grinned at Southern. ‘And if we meet someone, we say we’re ridin’ south to collect yer sister’s kids … she being dead like.’
Southern nodded. ‘We won’t need to give names. I’ll be too upset to say much and you’ll just play the silent partner.’ He turned away and watched the dirt track leading to the road. Soon he’d have to face people who came to the farm, really testing his disguise. He’d have to wear the veil at all times, to hide any trace of bristles on his chin.
He thought back over the past weeks and a slight grin relaxed his features. The woman’s disguise had been the only one that could conceal his identity from the many people who had known him at Hokitika, Ross … and at Swag & Tucker.
Annie watched him with frightened eyes.
Chapter
– Fourteen –
Brendan’s last evening came around. All the wonderful weeks of his visit had slipped away with too few days in them. It was late, but no one wanted to be the first to leave the room where we sat around the table and on the window-seat, one lamp newly lit as light faded, and the firelight dancing across all those familiar faces.
We had laughed and reminisced, then talked about the future, and I wanted the night never to end. Brendan hadn’t altered during his year away. We were as close as we’d always been, and the eleven months ahead without him seemed an eternity.
Even Spider was there with Paddy, and Buzz had come out from Longridge with Kerry. It was a gathering of all who made Swag & Tucker such a close community, and I wondered wistfully if Longridge would have the same magnetism.
Brendan had told Father that he intended to study law when he left school, and would work his way through university so that he would need no financial support from our family. He had indeed grown to manhood.
So many changes lay ahead.
Little One was almost asleep on my lap and bedtime was close.
‘Sing us a song, Brendan.’ Mother smiled at him. ‘Then the young ones must be going to bed.’
Brendan came to my side and we sang in duet “The Lord is my Shepherd”.
No one spoke for several moments, then Paddy broke the spell. ‘Och, would ye believe, I’ve a tear on the end of me nose!’
The room came alive with laughter, and stools were pushed back, everyone parting ways with cheerful talk.
‘It’s a boy! It’s a boy! Agnes has a boy,’ laughed Mrs Kozan, breathless with her run from the ferry. ‘Our first grandchild.’
‘Oh, praise be!’ cried
Mother and hustled her to the Winchesters’ cottage to pass on the good news.
Andreas, her youngest son who had brought her across the river, winked at me as I leaned on the gatepost and daydreamed that perhaps in a year’s time it would be my child … our child arriving. Mother’s first grandchild.
‘Nik said to tell you he’s ordered a cradle.’
I snapped back to the present, noting the mischief in his eyes. ‘Indeed, has he? You’re a mite large to fit into a cradle.’
Andreas put his head back and laughed. ‘You’re still as quick as a flea. Remember when your Ma asked about those frogs and …’
I had no wish to hear about schoolday pranks, with the children at lessons within earshot across the verandah, so I frowned and hastily changed the subject. ‘What else is news?’
‘That the ship is due at Bruce Bay in a week. We’ll be helping your Father by collecting supplies for both settlements, and with Simon gone to Gillespies to cluck over his first son, it means that Katie will be on her own all day.’
‘But she’ll have Beanpole, won’t she? Not that I don’t want to go up to her, provided Mother will let me.’
‘Beanpole will be fetching Katie’s mum from the coach.’
‘Oh, I am glad about that. We’d begun to worry that with the bad weather up north she mightn’t reach here for the birth, but Mother intends to go to Longridge next week so that Katie won’t worry.’
‘When’s it due?’ he asked.
‘In about ten days or so.’
‘What a relief for Katie.’
I turned towards the house. ‘If Beanpole goes north this weekend, I may be able to come up with Bess.’
Blessing our good fortune, Bess, Ged, and I rode inland with Wag at heel, after classes on Friday.
The widening of the track through the gorge and the bush beyond had halved the time the journey took, and we received a warm welcome from Katie.
As I hugged her carefully, I could see our cottage taking shape across the valley. The roof was on, and Katie laughed, catching my excitement as she noted the direction of my gaze.
‘When you come back to admire the baby, the cottage will be finished,’ she said happily. ‘Thomas has all the good timber cut ready.’
‘It’s unbelievable. Andreas didn’t say the roof was on.’
‘Boys don’t think to tell important things.’
‘Where are the men folk?’
‘Felling the last trees in the burn-off area over by the river.’
I had to wait patiently for their return, but Bess and I were delighted to see Katie’s joy at the approaching birth.
The men departed with packhorses at dawn under overcast skies, and we were left in the care of Thomas, Banjo Bill and Ged — not that we saw much of them that day because they continued working on my cottage. The distant banging of hammers had me smiling.
The rain had scarcely paused since the men left and it was torrential as the light faded. It was thundering down on the iron-roofed shed when I milked the cow, having asked Ged to do Agnes’s one for me, and to check the horses. Bess fed the dogs. The sound of the river in flood was like a distant roll of thunder.
‘Not the weather for travelling, but the men will be under cover at Scott’s tonight,’ I commented.
‘And James will be at The Forks.’ Katie always used Beanpole’s real name.
Dawn saw patches of water linking the tree-stumps in the paddock to form large silver necklaces, and the rain drummed on the roof with even greater persistence.
Ged and the men went across to their cottage and we three sat with little to do except our handwork. Pennyweight played contentedly with a box of coloured buttons while Wag whined from the spare dog shelter.
‘I need a breath of fresh air. I’ll feed the hens and collect the eggs, and then we’ll start the dinner,’ offered Katie.
The cow was again reluctant to let down her milk to strange fingers but gave in when I hummed songs, resting my forehead on her warm flank as we shared the shed together.
As I placed the milk pail on the bench and tossed some hay into the manger, I heard a sharp cry from the lean-to outside where the hen boxes were.
‘Are you all right, Katie?’ I called.
‘Oh, Mary! Come quick! I’ve fallen.’
Fear set me running and I nearly lost my footing in the wet yard. A white-faced Katie lay in the mud outside the lean-to, broken eggs around her.
‘Mary, I can’t … can’t move.’ Her stricken gaze fixed on mine for reassurance. ‘I don’t think I can get up. There are pains. Do you think …?’ Her eyes squeezed tight as a surge of pain caught her breath.
‘Bess! Bess!’ I shouted.
Bess, in an oiled cape of Beanpole’s that she’d hitched up with a piece of rope, came at a clumsy trot. Without asking questions, she dropped to her knees and supported Katie’s shoulders and head. I had already sheltered her with my cape. ‘The pains have started,’ I explained. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any other injury. She can move her limbs. Katie, we must get you inside. Do you think you can manage if we lift you very gently?’
Our laughing Katie had tears trickling down her cheeks as she murmured over and over, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
‘Nonsense.’ Bess gave her a reassuring smile. ‘We’ll tuck you up in bed and you’ll be fine. You look like a gingerbread maiden with all that mud over you.’
‘We’re the ones to feel sorry,’ I added. ‘We should never have let you feed the hens. That mud is treacherous underfoot.’
Somehow we squeezed through the doorway and sought to comfort Pennyweight who was wide-eyed. We helped Katie to her bed in the room alongside the living area.
She licked her dry lips. ‘Mary, there’s a bar by the metal tube hanging on the verandah. Hit the tube hard and fast. Thomas will know what it means.’
It was still ringing when Ged and Thomas came bounding down the track and through the home paddock. They swiftly took in the situation.
While Bess and I pulled the wet clothes off Katie, Thomas talked on the porch with Ged who then vanished out into the paddock.
We made Katie as comfortable as we could, and as I turned to fetch her a hot drink, she had another spasm of pain.
Thomas drew me aside. ‘I’m riding out to the bay for one of the women. I don’t suppose Bess helped her doctor-father at a birth?’
‘I don’t think so. She told me he liked her to look after the children and the father, to keep them from underfoot.
‘Thomas, my mother would be best, but if the river’s up, I’m sure Mrs Kozan would help.’
Ten minutes later, Thomas was cantering away with water splintering from the horse’s hooves. Ged came in soaked to the skin and I made him rub down and put on a spare shirt and trousers of Beanpole’s. He looked so comical with a shirt to his knees, and trousers folded in thick rings around his shins, that even Katie managed a smile.
‘I’ll look after Pennyweight,’ he offered with a grin. ‘I’ll teach her “forty-fives”.’
‘Card-playing at three?’
We all chuckled and Katie looked less anxious. She turned to Bess and me. ‘The baby isn’t due for at least a week. I’ve just jarred it and the pains will go with rest, won’t they? Mother would have been here last week to help me, but for the weather.’
‘I dare say they will,’ I said quickly, knowing little about such happenings. Bess patted her hand and went to pour the tea.
An hour passed and there were three more surges of pain. Bess looked as pale as Katie but kept up cheerful comments. She came out to where I was preparing a meal, and we watched Katie through the open doorway.
‘I feel so helpless. I know enough to deliver the baby — I think — but this one is at least a week early, if not more.’
‘Oh, Bess, let’s hope Mother gets here in time. I was only seven when Bridie was born and Mother went to Haast to have the others. Details of births were never mentioned. Even with Pennyweight’s arrival I was excluded.’
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I took Bess’s place at Katie’s side and night closed in early. The rain continued drumming.
It was near midnight when I heard a horse approaching. Only one horse. I rose to my feet with a despairing glance at Bess. Boots crossed the verandah and the door flew open. Thomas, with tiredness and anxiety etched into his features, shut the door and leant against it.
‘There’s a rock-fall across the gorge track … no hope of getting across, even on foot. I rode back along the riverbank but it’s in full flood and hopeless to cross. I’m sorry, Bess. Right sorry for both of you, too, but you’ll have to cope somehow. I’ll do anything you ask … you know that.’
Bess put a hand on his arm and smiled reassuringly. ‘Anyway, thank you, Thomas, for all you’ve done so far. We’ll manage, won’t we, Mary?’
‘Of course we will. Ged’s lit your fire and he took your meal over to keep warm for you. Is there anything you need? I doubt Ged will be asleep and I’m sure he’ll care for your horse.’
He thanked us and added in a low voice, ‘I’ll come back if you’d like me to.’
‘Is that Thomas?’ called Katie.
‘Yes.’ I returned to her bedside.
‘Can I ask him something?’
Thomas came to the doorway and she managed a wan smile. ‘When you go over to Ged, would you take Pennyweight with you? It does no good to see her frightened by my cries. Ged’s good with her and she’d be better out of the way if … if …’
‘Don’t you fret, Katie. I’ll take her with me and then I’ll come back in case you need me. Have you anything to ease the pains?’
‘We all felt that pain-relievers might be bad for the baby,’ murmured Katie with a sigh. ‘But I’ll be all right.’
‘Well, we’ll take great care of Pennyweight. She’ll be right as a trivet with Ged.’
I went through to where the child was whimpering in her bed, and once we’d comforted her and the rain had eased a bit, she was happy to be wrapped in a blanket and carried to Thomas’s cottage.
It was to be a long and anxious night. I was beginning to wonder when the next crisis would come.
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