Outback Station

by Aaron Fletcher

  The following day, Morton again brought up the subject of Clara Tavish. Alexandra had begun coming to his office in the early evenings, when only one apprentice remained and they could talk without interruptions. The offices were quiet, the summer dusk fading into night as Morton told her that he had decided to end his relationship with Clara.

  When he stopped talking, Alexandra pointed out that he had an obligation to provide for Clara and her children after he left them. He thought about it, then agreed and said he would furnish whatever amount was necessary. His manner indicated a time in the indefinite future, and Alexandra told him he should do it soon, then broaden his interests beyond his business so he would have friends and the respect that was his due. Morton replied that he was already widely-respected in the town, with numerous friends who went out of their way to speak to him on the street.

  ''Those are business acquaintances, not friends," Alexandra explained. "And some fear you because you hold mortgages on their property, but that falls short of respect, Morton." She lifted a hand as he started to speak. "No, please hear me out, my dear. I believe you've strayed off the course from what you actually want, and now you're merely grubbing for money. When I lived here, Farrel Ibbets wasn't all that much older than you are now. I believe you're headed down the same road that he took."

  "No, no," Morton objected. "He isn't even married, Mother. As we discussed, I intend to have a wife and family."

  "Ibbets had the same intentions. He didn't find a wife and family in a ledger, and neither will you. You've become very successful in business, but you lack equal success as a man who is honored and respected. For that, you must be invited to all important social occasions, support charities, and be very generous toward your relatives and friends."

  "But why should I do all that, Mother? I can find a wife from a good family without turning my entire life topsy-turvy."

  "If you want her to be from a very well-placed family, you must change, Morton. And once you experience true respect from those around you, it will more than repay the effort." Leaning closer to him, she broached her final, most compelling argument. "Further, you must establish a reputation that is prerequisite to an honor reserved for very few."

  "What do you mean, Mother?"

  "I've mentioned Sir Geoffrey Bodenham to you. He's a high government official with whom I've formed a close acquaintance through our correspondence."

  "Yes, I'm familiar with the name."

  "When you're ready to pursue that," she continued, pointing to the rock on his desk, "first, send your chemist to find out how much there is. If it is a large amount, go to London and see Sir Geoffrey. Let him make political capital by announcing the discovery of gold, then he will become your sponsor. The gold will bring you immense wealth, but you'll also perform a great service to the crown by providing specie for the government. Such services are recognized with honors, Morton." Taking his hand between hers, she finished in a soft, urgent voice, "I refer to a knighthood."

  He was silent for a long moment, stunned by what she had said, then he spoke quietly, "Is it possible, Mother?"

  "I believe it is even probable," she replied, standing. She kissed him, then turned toward the door. "Think about it, Morton."

  She left and drove to the hotel. After dinner in the dining room, Alexandra went upstairs to her room. As she prepared to go to bed, she was satisfied that she had done her best for Morton and could only await the outcome.

  The next morning, as she was starting to dress, there was a knock on her door. Belting her gown, Alexandra answered it. Morton was in the hall, having slept little if at all. His eyes red and his face lined with fatigue, he said that he had decided to act upon her advice.

  Her immense relief matching her joy, Alexandra told him that his cousins would have his belongings moved to the Hammond house and have it put in order for him that day. He exchanged a kiss with her, then left. Alexandra dressed, and when a maid brought up the breakfast tray, she asked the woman to have the manager send to the livery stable for a buggy.

  On her way to Melissa's house, Alexandra stopped at the inn where the station employees were staying to send a jackaroo to Elizabeth Montague's house with a request to call.

  At Melissa's home, she and Dora greeted Alexandra effusively. When she told them what Morton intended to do, Dora went to fetch her other two sisters as Melissa made tea. When they were all present, Alexandra told them what had to be done. The sisters knew of domestics who were seeking employment, and Melissa took charge, saying the house would be ready that evening. Confident that Morton's household was in thoroughly capable hands, Alexandra left.

  At her hotel, she found a reply that Elizabeth had immediately given the jackaroo to bring back. Instead of an invitation, it was a humorously emphatic demand for Alexandra to call immediately. Pleased and amused, Alexandra got into her buggy.

  At the large, expensive brick home set back in landscaped grounds, the butler started to open the door wider for Alexandra to enter. Elizabeth suddenly pushed past him, holding out her arms. She was still as slender and lovely as Alexandra remembered, with the same radiantly cheerful smile, and they laughed in pleasure as they embraced and kissed.

  In a spacious, luxuriously-furnished drawing room, Alexandra and Elizabeth sat on a couch to talk, and a maid carried in tea and cakes. With a new generation having taken its place in the town, Elizabeth was one of the relatively few who readily recalled Alexandra's abduction a quarter of a century before. She mentioned it and her torment of fear until she had heard that Alexandra was well, then she brought up other matters.

  Having much to discuss, they spent an hour in telling each other the major events in their lives during the past years. Alexandra then guided the conversation toward children in general and Morton in particular. Elizabeth said that she had met him only once, when she and her husband had happened to meet him on the street.

  "As I'm sure you know," Elizabeth continued, "he and Howard are associates in several business ventures. Howard has invited Morton to dinner a number of times, but he never accepts. I'd be pleased to invite him to more formal occasions, but . . ." her voice trailed off, and she shrugged apologetically. "Well, he does have that rather unfortunate liaison, Alexandra."

  "That's true," Alexandra replied, smiling blandly. "But one must wonder at our standards. If a woman consorts with her gardener or her husband has a mistress in the maid's quarters, they're admired for their impudence as long as they make no public issue of it. But let a man and woman live together openly and honestly, and they're disdained."

  Elizabeth pursed her lips, annoyed momentarily, then she laughed. "Alexandra, I had quite forgotten that when you smile most sweetly, you may be baring your teeth to bite. I admire your loyalty to your son, but what would you have me do? Make myself a pariah?"

  "First," Alexandra replied, taking her friend's hand, "I'll ask you to forgive my peevishness. Next, I'd like you to hear some news about Morton. He's now going to be living alone at my father's, and I've prevailed upon him to start accepting invitations."

  Elizabeth shook her head, laughing. "You needn't apologize, because I truly enjoyed that spark of fire from you. And I'm pleased to hear that about Morton. We're having a garden reception on Sunday afternoon for the new judge advocate, and the governor and many others will be here. I'd be most happy to include you and Morton on the guest list."

  Alexandra accepted the invitation and expressed her thanks, deeply gratified. After being a guest at a reception hosted by the Montagues, she knew that Morton would be picking and choosing among his invitations. She talked with her friend for a while longer, then ended the visit. Elizabeth went out to the buggy with her. As they embraced and kissed in farewell, they agreed to stay in contact with letters.

  Alexandra drove back to the hotel, and after having lunch, she went to the inn and talked with Ruel. Giving him money to buy supplies, she told him to make preparations to leave at dawn the following Monday morning.

  She then concl
uded her business in the town, filling the time until classes at the school ended for the day and she could visit with Dierdre. While everything around her was the same as before, inwardly she felt a transition as profound and distinct as a change in seasons. Her duty finished here, she had to return to Tibooburra Station and face the more menacing, insoluble problem of whether the foul taint of Enos Hinton would reach into the next generation of her family.

  Later, during her conversation with Dierdre, Alexandra tried to find a way to warn her daughter against disasters such as the one whose enduring ill effects she was still confronting herself. Having to use the most general terms, because the keen-minded girl might guess the dread secret from any specifics, Alexandra succeeded only in confusing her.

  "What do you mean, Mother?" she asked.

  "I mean that you should always be cautious about how you go, Dierdre," Alexandra replied, still searching for words. "Always use good judgment in situations where you could be at risk."

  "Yes, I do, Mother," Dierdre said, perplexed.

  Alexandra hesitated, yearning for a way to provide her lovely daughter with armor against all injuries and weapons against all dangers. But she knew it was hopeless. It was impossible to foresee what Dierdre would encounter during her toiling climb up the steep road of life, and only fate could determine whether she would stumble. Smiling, Alexandra took Dierdre's hand and held it as she began talking with her about school.

  Chapter Twenty

  The westward journey, which began weeks later than Alexandra had originally intended, was plagued by delays from the outset. On the first day, they traveled only as far as Parramatta before a horse threw a shoe. The one blacksmith in the village was gone, searching for a horse that had strayed, and finally returned late that afternoon. By the time the horse was shod, it was too late to travel any farther that day.

  The following day, the horses labored in the hot sunshine as they pulled the wagons up the steep eastern slopes of the Blue Mountains. After crossing the crest, the horses plodded leisurely ahead of the wagons as smoke boiled from the brakes and turned into steam. Two jackaroos dashed buckets of water on the leather pads to cool them. Then, when the youths were too slow with water for the front wagon, it went down a sharp incline, the leather bursting into flames from the intense friction.

  The leather quickly burning through, the steel frame of the brake screeched against the wheel rim as the wagon picked up speed. The horses neighed in wild-eyed terror as the wagon veered and pushed them ahead of it. Ruel wheeled his horse around, racing back toward the wagon. Leaning down from the saddle, he snatched up a thick limb beside the road, then flung it into a front wheel on the wagon.

  As the limb jammed the rapidly spinning wheel, the wooden spokes exploded into splinters. The wheel collapsed, and the front corner of the wagon slammed down on the axle. The horses slid and stumbled, and the heavy vehicle skidded in a cloud of dust and came to a stop bare inches from the edge of the road overlooking a precipice. The jackaroo driving the wagon looked down into the abyss, his eyes wide and his face blanched.

  The other wagon and spare horses stopped, and Ruel dismounted in a fury at the jackaroos who had been cooling the brakes. "Get away from me!" he raged. "If you get within my reach, I'll throttle the pair of you!" The jackaroos ducked behind the wagon as he turned to the one on the seat. "I've told you that if your wagon gets out of control on a hill, drive it into the bank! Kill yourself if you wish, but these horses and this wagon are valuable! Now get down here and lend a hand with these horses!"

  Her heart still in her throat from the near-disaster, Alexandra followed Eulie as he rode back and dismounted to assist in unhitching the team. She reined up beside the vehicle as the jackaroo led the horses away and Ruel knelt to examine the axle. He stood up, shaking his head grimly and telling Alexandra that the axle was damaged.

  "That's nothing compared to what almost happened," she said. "Your quick action prevented a tragedy, Ruel."

  "But not a broken axle," he replied wryly. "Our spare wheels will do us no good, Mistress Kerrick. We'll go to Bathurst and get you a room at an inn, then I and the other men will bring the wagon in."

  "You know me too well to think that I'll sit at an inn while you and the men are out here working into the night, Ruel. Let's proceed with what must be done, and I'll rest when everyone else does."

  He nodded, telling Eulie to unhitch the other team of horses. A few minutes later, with both teams harnessed to the disabled wagon, the animals strained and dragged the vehicle to the verge on the other side of the road. Then, leaving Eulie and a jackaroo to guard the damaged wagon, Alexandra and the other men traveled on toward Bathurst with the second wagon, the jackaroos keeping the brake on it drenched with water.

  At the inn where they had stayed on their eastward journey, the landlord offered the use of an empty shed. Ruel and the jackaroos unloaded the wagon into the shed and locked it, then Alexandra went with them to a wainwright's shop. The owner, a toothless, ebulliently cheerful oldster, rummaged through wagon parts beside his shop and found a broken axle with an undamaged hub. He tossed the axle stub into the wagon and climbed in, then they set out.

  When they reached the damaged wagon, the laborious task of moving cargo from it to the other vehicle began. The supplies and utensils were among the things, and Alexandra built a fire to cook dinner. After the cargo had been transferred, the men and jackaroos used thick limbs as levers to raise the front of the disabled wagon. The wainwright lashed the axle stub to the broken axle, then fitted a spare wheel onto the stub.

  When the work was completed, everyone gathered around the fire and Alexandra served the food. After they ate and put away the utensils, they set out down the road in the thick darkness at a slow walk, the jackaroos carrying lanterns and watching the wheel. With frequent stops to tighten the lashings, they reached the wainwright's shop late that night.

  They were stalled in Bathurst for two days as the old wainwright painstakingly fitted a new axle to the wagon. The stockmen and jackaroos helped him, while Alexandra made preparatory notes for the book about the outback, having decided to write it. She found concentration difficult as she knew that the time for Catherine to have her baby steadily drew nearer. Finally, at dawn on the third day, they set out down the track to the west.

  Over the years, small sheep stations had spread down the track. To the people at them, the giant Tibooburra and Wayamba Stations far to the west were legendary, their owners the royalty of the outback. As had happened on the eastward journey, word spread ahead of Alexandra and her party that they were passing. Late each afternoon, a station owner would be waiting beside the track to offer dinner and accommodations for the night.

  Their arrival, a dramatic break in the stark loneliness and monotony at the small stations, always created an upheaval of excitement. With homely formality, Alexandra was introduced to wives and families, and children happily vacated their room for her. After large, hearty meals, she sat on verandas and talked with owners and their wives, while the stockmen, jackaroos, and children gathered at the edge of the light from the lanterns to listen.

  Regarded at the small stations as a final authority on wool prices, sheep husbandry, and station management, Alexandra answered questions and gave advice. Swagmen visiting the stations had described Tibooburra Station and told about events there, their tales invariably more interesting and spectacular than the facts. Alexandra and her husband had been known for years among the small stations as figures larger than life, and the people were always surprised to find that she was only a youthful forty-three, her face without lines and her hair still untouched with gray.

  Alexandra enjoyed the visits, but all too frequently their departure was held up while a piece of worn harness, a broken trace chain, or a loose rim on a wagon wheel was repaired. Once they were on the track, their pace was tediously slow, the horses tiring quickly in the brutal heat of late January, and other things caused delays. One morning they found an ill swagman and spent m
ost of the day in getting him to a station, while another day was lost in helping fight a grass fire at a small station.

  Logically, it was a series of unrelated events, but it seemed like something more to Alexandra. During the long hours of riding down the track in the glaring sunshine, the horizon a blur of shimmering heat waves, she recalled other times when plans and schedules had become meaningless, meeting with the unforeseen on every side. Mysterious and impersonal, the outback seemed to have its moods, setting the rhythm and the pace at which events occurred. That inertia sometimes helped and at other times hindered, but struggling against it was futile, resulting only in frustration.

  The last small station was finally left behind, and the track became a narrow path of human activity in the immense wilderness. The minor mishaps in this setting were even more difficult for Alexandra to accept as mere coincidence. The vast, harshly beautiful landscape would forever elude her full understanding, remaining a primeval, arcane place that harbored unknowns. She loved it, but only the Aborigines with their strange, inscrutable comprehension of events at a distance in time or space were completely adapted to it and a part of the remote land of the outback.

  When thick dust clouds appeared on the horizon shortly after they set out one morning, they hastily turned off the track into a small, sheltered valley. The day turning dark, the wind rose rapidly in gusts that filled the air with choking dust as Alexandra and the men tethered the horses to the wagons. By the time they climbed into a wagon, the vehicle parked beside it was only a vague shadow through the dust.

  The wind howled around the wagon and buffeted the canvas cover, and Alexandra and the men sat with blankets over their heads so they could breathe. Sweat trickled down her face, the heat under the blanket stifling, as she waited for the dust storm to end. Hours later, when the wind died, it was too late to set out again that day and a horse was missing.