Outback Station

by Aaron Fletcher

  "There's timber aplenty, Mr. Hammond," he continued, "but rafting it down the river would be very difficult and would take months. We found no coal or anything like that, but there might be some minerals." He pointed to a wooden box at his feet. "One of the men used to work in a lead mine, and he found some rocks that he thought might contain minerals. I brought some back with me in the event that you would want to have them tested."

  Creighton stroked his chin, looking at the box skeptically. "Very well. How much do you need for supplies?"

  "About thirty guineas, Mr. Hammond," the man replied, taking out a list. "I have the things written down here."

  "I don't need to see it," Creighton said, waving the list aside. He nodded to the head clerk, who began writing out a bank draft, then turned back to the stockman. "I hope the illness among your people isn't serious."

  "No, it isn't," the man assured Creighton. "We appreciate your confidence in us, and we'll do our best to make that station pay."

  Appearing less than totally confident, Creighton signed the bank draft and gave it to the man. They shook hands and the stockman left as Creighton studied the box somberly. The head clerk spoke to an apprentice, who found a knife and prised at the top of the box. Morton moved closer, watching as the boy lifted off the top and put it aside.

  "Well, he told the truth," Creighton remarked dryly. "He brought me some rocks from the Murray River. What do you think of them, Morton?"

  Morton examined one of the rocks, sparkling streaks of color in it, then tossed it back into the box and dusted his hands together. "I know nothing at all about minerals. But even if it is some sort of ore, transporting it to have it processed would be prohibitively expensive."

  "That's true," Creighton agreed. "And as far as I know, there isn't any means in Sydney to test for minerals." He glanced around. "Well, let's put the box somewhere. With as much as I have invested in it, I don't want to throw it away, even if it is worthless. But we can't leave it here."

  "It can go on the floor of the closet in my office," Morton offered. "I use only the shelves for my ledgers and files."

  Creighton nodded, going into his office as Morton returned to his desk. When the apprentice brought in the box and put it in the closet, Morton thought about the chemist, James Boland, who had the experience and probably the means to test the rocks. Coal was the only mineral of value that had ever been found in Australia, and as he looked at the papers on his desk, he halfheartedly decided to take the box to Boland at some point.

  When he opened the closet the next day to take a ledger off a shelf, he looked at the box and thought about it again. Then, during subsequent days, it became a familiar object that he scarcely noticed whenever he went to the closet, thinking of matters more important to him.

  A week later, a visitor arrived who created an explosion of happy excitement in the outer office. Morton heard his uncle's unrestrained whoop of delight in greeting, followed by a reply in a ringing baritone that Morton knew well. It was his brother, Jonathan.

  With his usual contradictory feelings toward his brother, Morton got up from his chair. He loved his brother, as well as resented him. With an amiable, winning disposition, Jonathan was easy to admire, but he was also the tall, handsome one who had never been reprimanded as a child. Drawing in a deep breath, Morton entered the outer office.

  Over six feet tall and two hundred pounds, Jonathan seemed too large for the office in his stockmen's clothes, a man of the outback. Much like their father in other ways as well as size, he had bold, tanned features and a compelling personality. His blue eyes shining and his teeth gleaming in a wide smile, Jonathan brushed Morton's proffered hand aside and hugged him affectionately as they exchanged greetings.

  Always somewhat overwhelmed by his brother,

  Morton struggled to recover his poise. "Well, what brings you to Sydney?" he asked.

  "Countless errands," Jonathan replied. "We need more Merinos from Camden Park, as well as some saddles and other odds and ends. Mother wants to have a book of etchings made from those sketches she's had ever since old man Bodenham died . . ." His voice fading, he laughed and shrugged. "Simply a host of things that someone had to come and see about."

  "Well, the first thing you must do," Creighton put in firmly, "is go and greet your aunt. She'll prepare a room for you, and my daughters will see that you have ample entertainment while you're here."

  Jonathan expressed his thanks for the invitation and asked about his uncle's family, and Creighton replied that they were well. Morton noticed that the apprentices were grinning and gazing at Jonathan in awe, while the head clerk smiled absently as he listened and watched. The young giant of a man always made a forcefully favorable impression on others.

  Ending the conversation, Jonathan said he had to get his stockmen and jackaroos settled in an inn before he went to his uncle's home. He made his farewells, promising to spend time with Morton while he was in town, then he left. As always after Jonathan departed from anywhere, the place seemed somewhat quiet and empty.

  Morton returned to his desk, experiencing his usual mixture of pleasure and dissatisfaction after having seen his brother. Then he concentrated completely on the papers on his desk, everything else fading to the remote sidelines of his thoughts.

  That evening, as he walked down a quiet, dark residential street with his two pretty cousins and their escorts, Jonathan was bombarded with questions about the outback by the young men. Both of them from merchant families, they had idealized notions about the outback, regarding it as more exciting and enjoyable than life in Sydney.

  ''I'm sure I'd find it very pleasant," one of them remarked. "I'd like to ride about the wide, open spaces in the wind and sunshine."

  "You'd get saddle sores on your bum," pointed out Dora, the youngest of the Hammond sisters. "Then you'd long for your desk and chair."

  Everyone laughed, then the conversation turned to the gathering where they were going. His cousin, Leona, told Jonathan that it was entertainment the regimental band had begun providing for the townspeople a few evenings each week since the last time he had visited Sydney. It was located at the public park on Macquarie Street, and vendors sold refreshments during the performance.

  "But only small beer, light punch, and that sort of thing," Leona added. "Anything stronger would draw the wrong sort, which wouldn't do at all. Dora and I often come here unescorted, as do others."

  She continued talking, having made a point that Jonathan clearly understood. In addition to entertainment for the entire town, the gathering was a place for the eligible to meet. Each time he came to Sydney, his cousins introduced him to numerous attractive young women from good families, but all the young women he had ever met had seemed very vapid and shallow to him in comparison with his mother.

  When they turned a corner, the music carried down Macquarie Street from the park. It was brightly lit, lanterns hanging around the bandstand, from tree limbs, and over vendors' carts. Scores of people were in the park, their laughter and voices an undertone to the music ringing out in the balmy evening, as the vendors did a lively business.

  Immediately upon entering the park, Leona and Dora spotted Melissa, one of their two older, married sisters. Leading a small boy, Melissa exchanged greetings with Jonathan. "You've very smartly turned out,

  I must say," she remarked. "That suit and cravat would put all of my husband's to shame. I trust that your mother and father are well?"

  "Yes, thank you. How is your husband?"

  "He's well," she replied. "He had to work late this evening, so I decided to take little Tommy for a stroll." She picked up the weary-looking boy and held him. "But now I'd best get him home before he falls asleep. Try to find time to visit us while you're in town, Jonathan."

  He replied that he would, as Melissa walked away. The other two sisters introduced him primarily to young women. While Jonathan preferred to seek out acquaintances on his own, he knew that his cousins considered what they were doing an obligation, and he wa
s resigned to it. As he exchanged greetings and talked with people, he observed that the social barriers of the past were becoming even more blurred, as those who were evidently children of convicts and those of free immigrants mixed in the same groups.

  Moving through the crowd with his cousins, he noticed a woman at one side of the park by herself. Content to be alone, she was listening to the music. Jonathan noted that her dress and wide, matching hat had the sheen of fine muslin, a costly fabric. But muslin dresses were usually made in bright colors and decked out with frills, while hers was unadorned and in a subdued shade. He found the effect of her clothing and demeanor pleasing, giving an impression of a young woman who was very practical, and who had no need for others around her. The dress fitted her slender figure neatly, and in the edge of the light from the lanterns she seemed attractive, with dark hair.

  The sharp-eyed Leona, noticing his gaze, linked her arm through Jonathan's and announced that they were going for refreshments. Turning away from the group, they went toward a vendor's cart, and stopped in front of the woman who was in their path. "Oh, good evening, Catherine," Leona said. "I almost didn't recognize you in this dim light. This is my cousin, Jonathan Kerrick. Jonathan, this is Catherine Baxter."

  Exchanging greetings with her, Jonathan saw that she was far more than attractive. With the unusual, striking combination of large green eyes and gleaming, raven hair tucked up under her hat, she was bewitching, her lovely features reflecting a forceful personality. The gaze from her beautiful eyes was level and unwavering, her chin set at an assertive angle.

  For an instant, Jonathan thought he saw interest in him in her eyes, but it was gone so quickly he was unsure. It was also obscured by her obvious displeasure at the intrusion. Unsmiling as she exchanged greetings with him, Catherine then turned to his cousin. "I'm in a vile mood this evening, Leona," she said. "I beg you to excuse me."

  Then she was gone, walking toward the street, and Leona shrugged in wry amusement. "I barely know her," she remarked, "but I've heard that she's often abrupt. She's a teacher at the public school, so one may well pity the boys who stir her temper. And it doesn't take a wizard to fathom why she's into her twenties and not married. She's very pretty, to say the least, but her manner drives men away faster than her beauty draws them."

  Watching her as she disappeared into the darkness, Jonathan considered those men fools. In the brief moment that he had spoken with her, he had seen that even in comparison with his mother, a standard that few women could approach, Catherine Baxter was anything but insipid and colorless. He was sure they would meet again. In fact, he was determined to make whatever effort it took to make that happen.

  Chapter Seventeen

  "You're the boss cockie, and that's your job, Mr. Jonathan," Ruel Blake said. "I don't have to tell you that."

  "No, you don't," Jonathan replied. "I have other things to do, though, and you know more than I do about sheep. So it makes sense for you to pick out the rams at Camden Park."

  The stocky, bearded stockman frowned in dissatisfaction as he and Jonathan stood with the other stockman and four jackaroos in front of the livery stable where their horses were. "If you're busy today, we could pick out the rams tomorrow," Ruel suggested.

  "No, we said we'd be there today to pick out the rams, and that's what we should do." Jonathan pointed to the package he was carrying. "I have the letters and things from the station for my sister, and I want to go see her now. After that, there are other things I need to do today."

  Corley Bodenham, the other stockman, eyed Jonathan's neat suit, cravat, and hat. "Those other things are of a female sort, or I'll miss my guess by a mile," he speculated.

  "If that's the case," a jackaroo remarked merrily, "it would be a lot better for Mr. Blake to pick out the rams. The boss cockie is liable to get mixed up and pick out ewes instead."

  Ruel directed an angry glare at the youths, the laughter among them suddenly ceasing. He turned back to Jonathan and shrugged in resignation. "All right, I'll see to it. What do I do?"

  "Just see the head stockman there, and he'll show you all the rams. When you've picked out a dozen, they'll be put in a separate pen until we're ready to leave. That's all there is to it."

  The stockman nodded, beckoning the others and leading them into the stable to get their horses. As he walked away, Jonathan felt a twinge of guilt, knowing he had shirked a responsibility. However, it would have been after dark by the time he returned to Sydney, and he was determined that nothing would prevent his being at the public school during late afternoon when the pupils and teaching staff left for the day.

  In the meantime, he crossed the center of town and turned onto King Street, which led past large, luxurious homes on a slope overlooking the bay. At the top of the hill, a high stone wall surrounded the buildings and large grounds of Sydenham Academy. In the office beside the gate, a stout, formidable woman questioned him about the purpose of his visit, then pointed out the central hall, the administration building.

  Inside the wall, paths led through shady lawns to towering stone dormitories and academic buildings, a cricket ground, and other games fields. Most of the buildings were of relatively recent construction, but the ivy on the stone walls and the quiet atmosphere gave the school a venerable appearance. In the central hall, a matron showed Jonathan into the visitors' parlor and sent for his sister.

  Dierdre ran in a few minutes later, breathless with anticipation, and gasped in joy as she rushed to Jonathan. He hugged and kissed her, laughing happily. With the Kerrick stature, she was tall for her age, a charmingly pretty girl who closely resembled their mother.

  They sat on a couch, and Jonathan gave her the package containing presents and letters from their parents. He started to ask her about school and other usual things, but she was bursting with a subject she wanted to discuss. "Have you heard about Morton's mistress?" she asked excitedly.

  Jonathan blinked in surprise, then smiled. "Well, no, I didn't know he was keeping company with anyone. Dierdre, when you use that word in just that way, it means something you don't know anything about. And don't need to. You should use it only as a title in referring to"

  "Oh, don't be absurd, Jonathan! I mean a kept woman, of course."

  "Bloody hell!" Jonathan exclaimed angrily. "What are they teaching you in this . . ." His voice fading, he glanced at the door to make sure no one had heard him, then lowered his voice. "Dierdre, I apologize for swearing, but I intend to talk to the headmistress about this."

  "Jonathan, Jonathan," Dierdre sighed in amused exasperation. "I'm fourteen now, not a baby. So you didn't know?"

  Discussing the subject with his sister made him uncomfortable, and he tugged at his collar and shook his head. "No, none of the Hammonds mentioned it, but they might not know."

  "I'm sure they do, because the woman's neighbors do. A girl here found out about it from a maid who works at a neighbor's house, then pointed her out to me one day in the public gardens. She's a widow with three children, and that's why she's Morton's mistress, of course."

  "What do you mean?"

  "When the girl pointed her out to me, I spoke with her. She's very pleasant, not the least bit bawdy. I saw that she's simply providing for her children as best she can. It couldn't be anything else with Morton, because he's no more romantic than a pair of smelly old boots."

  Jonathan guided the discussion away from the subject, asking about her schoolwork, and Dierdre told him what she had been doing. She smiled hopefully as she pointed out that as a student in the upper forms, she could get permission to be absent for a few hours to have dinner with relatives. Jonathan assured her he would arrange for her to have dinner at the Hammond home while he was there.

  When it was time for him to go, they went to the front door together. As Jonathan looked at his sister, he realized that she was growing up. In her neat school uniform, she was as tall as most women, curves replacing the gangling lines of her slender body. He was pleased, but he also missed the little girl. T
here remained much of a child in her, however, as she stood on the steps with her package under her arm, looking very lonely and exchanging waves with him while he went down the walk.

  The public school was in a much less fashionable location, on the edge of the business district and hemmed in by commercial buildings. It was an impressive, three-story stone structure, however, designed and built years before by an architect named Francis Greenway. Shortly after Jonathan reached it, the pupils poured out the front door and scattered.

  Soon after, the staff exited the school and Jonathan looked closely at each woman among them. But it was unnecessary, for Catherine Baxter stood out among the other people as if the street were empty, and she turned down it away from him. Crossing the street through the horses and vehicles, Jonathan hurried to catch up with her.

  Her head high and her shoulders back, she made her way up the crowded street at a brisk pace. Coming up alongside her, Jonathan lifted his hat. "Good day, Mistress Baxter. It's very pleasant seeing you again."

  Taken by surprise, her reaction was revealing, her emerald eyes reflecting delight and her quick smile radiant. She pursed her lips, controlling her smile as she walked more slowly. "Good day, Mr. Kerrick. I'm pleased to see you again."

  "It isn't by chance," he told her, dispensing with customary polite fictions. "I've been waiting for you. If I may, I'd like to walk with you as far as your home so we can talk."

  His straightforward expression of interest in her also took her by surprise, and a slight blush rose to her cheeks as she looked away. He waited for some response as the two of them made their way through the people on the street. Then, at a corner, she pointed to another street. "We can go that way, which is always less crowded. But only as far as the gate, because my mother doesn't like unexpected visitors."

  Her reply indicated that she was at least receptive to his interest in her and Jonathan was elated that that giant hurdle had been crossed. As they turned onto the quiet street and began talking, he realized that she had indeed been upset the previous evening. Now she was amiable as well as witty and engaging, the most charming woman he had ever met.