‘What ’ave we got here?’
A strong arm grabbed her ankle. Squib squealed as her makeshift crutches fell and she landed heavily on the ground.
‘I’m reckoning this would be the kid I was telling you about – the one staying with Jack. What you doing out here then?’
Squib struggled against the thick arm, tilting her head away from the stench of sweat and mutton fat. It was Adams. ‘And I’m reckoning you’d be the lot that killed that sheep,’ Squib retaliated, finding herself subject to the scrutiny of a young man and woman. ‘Sheep stealing’s a crime.’
‘Is your leg hurt?’ the younger man asked.
Squib gave a brief nod.
‘Sheep stealing. That’s rich coming from a runaway,’ Adams replied.
‘She’s a bit old to be a runaway.’ The woman turned to the young man at her side. ‘She’s not exactly a child. And you say she was with Jack, Mr Adams?’
Squib stared at the woman opposite her. There were hollows beneath her eyes and her pale skin was emphasised by flecks of red in her short dark hair. How on earth would this woman know Jack? Squib sucked in her cheeks and let out a long breath. She spoke very distinctly and politely and she appeared to be younger in age than her stepmother, Abigail. Was this woman Jack’s Olive?
Adams nodded. ‘You’re never too old to be a runaway, ma’am. And yes, this is the girl. I told Jack she’d be best sent to an orphanage.’
‘I’m not going to any orphanage,’ Squib said defiantly as Adams tied a rope about her waist, holding the end firmly. Her fingers picked uselessly at the knot.
‘We’ll see about that, girly.’ Adams tightened the rope.
‘Must you do that, Mr Adams?’ The woman’s smooth forehead had the slightest indentation of a frown.
‘Ma’am, she’ll wander off into the night and end up being taken in by the blacks if we don’t keep an eye on her.’ He looked at Squib. ‘It’s to Jack’s tomorrow.’
The woman passed Squib a plate with a bit of damper and meat, and peered at her over the camp fire. ‘Are you a runaway?’
‘No. Jack found me when I got lost. I fell off a wagon and got washed down the crick.’
‘Likely story.’ Adams huffed.
‘It’s true.’ Squib took a mouthful and chewed quickly. ‘My father’s looking for me.’ She tugged on the thick length of rope. Only animals were tied up.
‘How do you know?’ the woman asked, leaning forward.
‘I just know.’ Squib bit into the meat. It was tough, tasteless. No wonder – meat had to be hung for a good few days in the winter or salted immediately in the summer before it was edible. She dragged the bread around the ring of her plate and drank the water offered from a pannikin.
‘How long have you been with Jack for?’
Squib looked at the woman. ‘Long enough.’
The woman’s cheeks turned red.
‘You’re Olive, aren’t you?’
There was a gasp and then the man sitting beside the woman finally spoke. ‘How did you know that?’
Squib ate some more food under the glare of the travellers. ‘Because he’s been waiting for you.’ She pointed an accusatory finger at Olive. ‘People need their family, you know. You shouldn’t have left him out here alone for so long.’
For a moment Squib thought the woman looked guilty. Although it was a hot night the woman wrapped a blanket about herself, shifted in the soft dirt like a burrowing animal, and whispered to the young man by her side.
‘Get some sleep,’ the young man suggested, rolling onto his side.
Squib licked her plate clean. Jack’s Olive pulled the blanket over her head. Adams belched and stretched out in the dirt. For a long while Squib sat beneath the glow of the moon as sleep overcame her companions. Try as she might she could not undo the knotted rope.
‘How’d you get out here then, my pretty?’ It was Adams, his voice low, his fingers creeping to her thigh.
Squib grabbed one of the crutches, aiming for his crotch. He swiped her aside with a well-aimed slap and she fell backwards, her head hitting hard dirt. ‘I’ll tell Jack.’
The young man stirred and turned on his side.
‘I don’t reckon you’ll be telling Jack anything.’ Adams breathed over her. ‘I reckon I know who you are, I do,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s this interesting tale doing the rounds ’bout a girl who fell off the back of a wagon whilst her kin were running from the law. Your mother’s the Purcell thief, ain’t she? The one who took that fancy bit of jewellery?’ Adams’s eyes dared her to deny it. ‘Well, she’s in gaol in Sydney now – the State Reformatory for Women – so it’s real unlikely a single man’s gonna put himself out for a kid, especially when he’s got a whole lot of coin in his pocket. I reckon you ain’t told Jack that snippet. After all, he’s a good Christian man; he wouldn’t hold with the likes of thievery and you not coming clean about it.’ He leant towards her. ‘So my advice to you, girly, is to be real nice to me. In return I’ll keep my mouth shut.’ He glanced across at the two sleeping bodies before running a calloused palm across her leg. ‘It’ll be up to you to convince old Jack to keep you. Course in return I’ll be expecting some gratitude when I swing by on my usual monthly run.’ His grip tightened on her leg. ‘You understand what I mean, don’t you?’
Squib edged away from Adams as he shoved his saddle backwards and forwards in the dirt, finally using it as a pillow. Overhead a tangle of stars spread out across the night. Squib hugged a saddle blanket about her thin shoulders and stared at the vast sky. ‘Find me, Father,’ she whispered softly into the wind. ‘Please find me.’
Adams led the way on a spindly wheeled cart, his bay horse trotting behind him. The dark cloth of his suit was just visible between a jumble of chairs, mattresses and a cupboard. Tethered to the bay was an ageing packhorse. Squib was at the rear of the crowded dray, wedged between two leather-strapped suitcases and tin trunks. No longer bound by rope thanks to Olive, her waist remained sore. It was a slow, uncomfortable ride. She felt every bump through the boards, although she figured she was more accustomed to this type of travel than the woman up front. Jack’s Olive seemed awfully out of place in her grey dress and matching coat. Even the hat she wore was strange. Pulled down over her short hair it resembled a bed pot.
‘Where you from then originally?’ the young man called Thomas asked. They had been travelling since dawn with little conversation.
‘A sheep station,’ Squib replied politely. She liked this man with his soft cow eyes and wide smooth face. His forehead was quite big, which Ben reckoned meant a person carried a lot of brains.
‘Why don’t you send them word about your father?’ Thomas suggested.
‘He’s left there,’ Squib answered quickly.
‘Thomas,’ Olive interrupted, wiggling to try to get comfortable on the folded blanket that was supposed to cushion her ride, ‘she’s just a child.’
Thomas elbowed her. ‘She only looks to be a few years younger than me.’
‘I’ll be fourteen soon.’
When the sun reached its highest point and Squib’s skin reached roasted meat stage, they passed through a stand of tall gum trees. For a few blissful minutes they were sheltered by the brown-green canopy above. Rays of light criss-crossed limbs and possessions, and Squib held out her forearm as the play of light danced across her skin. She had been thinking about Jack, about Adams’s threat about the orphanage, and this woman, Olive. She wondered what would happen next. If her leg hadn’t been paining so much after her long walk yesterday, she would have jumped off the dray and run.
The scent of smoke drifted through the trees. ‘Here we are.’ Adams turned in his saddle. Ahead, framed by the boughs from low-hanging trees, open country beckoned.
Squib ducked as they passed beneath the low branches, her hands clutching the back of Thomas’s seat. For a moment she didn’t recognise their destination. A wide circle of burnt-out earth greeted them, a thin stream of smoke lifting into the air from a
pile of rubble. Across the desolate space sat a rickety table she found familiar, which held a selection of foodstuffs. A trunk was nearby, burnished dark by the fire.
The dray jolted to a stop. ‘Must have been some fire,’ Thomas exclaimed, jumping to the ground.
The smoky air made Squib cough. Many of the larger trees Jack retained for shelter were scorched, and spirals of blackened earth were being lifted into the air by the wind. The clearing, which once housed a myriad of birds, was totally devoid of life.
Thomas placed firm hands around Olive’s waist as she climbed carefully down from the dray. ‘Thomas, surely this isn’t the place.’
‘Adams says it is.’ He stretched his arms upwards. ‘If I ever sit in a dray again it will be too soon.’
‘Coo-ee,’ Adams called through cupped hands.
‘That’s the bush call,’ Squib explained to Olive as a figure appeared from the ridge of trees beyond. ‘In case you get lost.’ Squib’s voice faltered. There on the edge of the ridge was her Jack.
‘Jack, Jack, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to cause the fire.’ The dirt was warm underfoot as Squib limped across the charcoal ground. She grasped his shirtsleeve. ‘I’m sorry. It was an accident. Don’t send me to an orphanage, please!’ She winced as Jack touched the bruise left by Adams’s hand.
‘You’ve gone injured yourself.’ Even as Jack spoke he was staring in the direction of the dray. Impatiently he loosened Squib’s arms, then broke into a run. When Jack reached Olive he drew her against his body, holding her for long minutes before throwing his hat in the air and hugging Thomas. Squib’s shoulders drooped.
Adams shook hands with Jack and gestured towards the devastation of the fire as the group surveyed the damage. They walked towards her, their boots crackling twigs and leaves. Olive, in her heeled shoes, kept going over on her ankle with every second step.
‘How on earth did the fire start, Squib?’ Jack asked when the group rejoined her, ‘and why did you run away?’
Four pairs of eyes were staring at her. ‘It was an accident,’ Squib answered, ‘and you know why I ran.’
‘I’ll eat my hat if it was an accident,’ Adams stated loudly.
Jack frowned, opened his mouth to say something to Squib and then, deciding against it, linked Olive’s arm firmly through his.
‘How’s my sister?’ Jack asked. Squib backed away.
‘May’s well.’
‘So then, what news?’
‘Sarah Bernhardt died,’ Thomas offered, ‘and there was a massive earthquake in Tokyo and Yokohama. Don’t you get newspapers out here?’
‘Occasionally.’ Jack smiled encouragingly at Olive. ‘How about some good news?’
‘They’ve started building a new Parliament House in Canberra. Oh, and they say the last Cobb & Co coach will run in Queensland this year. So this is it, eh, Jack? Your own spot in the world.’
Jack gave his brother a flash of white teeth and then they were laughing again, punching each other lightly on the arm. ‘You should see the sky out here, Thomas. Pinks and whites turning to blues in the morning. And the stars – the stars are wondrous.’
‘So then, you came for the scenery?’ Olive scraped at something sticky on the sole of her shoe.
‘Olive, I tell you, there’s nothing in Sydney that compares to this.’ Jack took her hand.
‘I can quite believe it.’ Olive stared at a roughly built timber frame sitting under a tree. Strips of blanket led from a water-filled tray on top to hessian walls. ‘What is that contraption?’
‘My fridge,’ Jack announced proudly, lifting the hessian to reveal a cut of salted mutton and a bowl of dripping. ‘Come on, Olive, you must have some news for me?’ Jack clucked her under the chin.
‘She looks like she’s in shock,’ Adams pronounced. ‘Tired probably.’
‘Are you feeling better now?’
‘Yes, Jack, I’m fine,’ Olive answered quickly.
‘Good. Well, I’m sorry the hut’s gone, but never mind. We’ll make do.’ Jack squeezed her shoulders.
‘You two love-birds will be right,’ Adams agreed. ‘I’m just sorry I had to bring this wild cat back with me. Handy kid, burning your place down, Jack.’
Squib walked off into a stand of thick trees to where a rough lean-to stood. It rested precariously against the trunk of a large gum tree.
‘What about the house?’ Olive turned on her heels, almost tripping over a fallen branch. ‘You said there would be a house.’
Adams and Thomas looked cautiously at each other and walked away slightly, inspecting a fallen branch caught in one of the trees above.
‘And there will be.’ Taking Olive’s hand Jack directed her to a log near the camp fire.
‘I’d hardly want to sit here, Jack. Why, it’s so hot a person could fall ill.’
‘Sit where you like then,’ Jack replied softly. ‘However, for the time being we’ll have to make do, Olive.’
Olive frowned. ‘With what? You’ve been here five months.’ She twisted a stray length of thread around a button at her wrist. ‘You can’t expect me to live here.’
‘I’ve been here by myself,’ Jack gently reminded her, ‘for longer than I expected after you changed our plans.’
‘Actually –’ Olive sniffed, mopping at her brow with a lace handkerchief ‘– they were your plans, Jack, and a person can’t be blamed for falling ill.’
Thomas gave a low whistle, and commented on the flash of green plumage in the tree above.
‘Bush lorikeet,’ Adams explained. ‘Anyway, Miss Olive, your man Jack has his brother to help him now. It won’t be long and you’ll have a good solid house.’
‘The grocer becomes a builder,’ Thomas agreed. ‘I’ll give you a few months, brother, and then I’m back to Sydney. I promised May I’d return.’
‘Has it changed much?’ Jack asked.
‘You wouldn’t recognise the place. It’s like a great machine has gone through and knocked down everything in its path. Many of the old faces have gone. May misses you. She thinks you should return.’
Squib noticed the look Olive gave Thomas. It was brief but unmistakable. There was knowledge between them, and Squib doubted Jack would like it.
The dark edged its way into the stand of trees so quickly there was barely time to tidy their plates before they were enveloped by it. Olive watched the girl pick up each plate unasked and stack them to one side ready for washing in a bucket. Considering she depended on a sturdy branch for a crutch, she managed to move about quietly. As she slopped water the girl hummed an unknown tune, which set Olive on edge. Even the music was different out here. Jack explained the girl was a bit of a night owl, preferring to bed down for half the day and sit up during the night. The thought of Squib’s half-wild ways didn’t endear her to Olive, but there was no doubt she was adept at stoking the fire, fetching water and cleaning up. Considering there was only three or so years difference in age between them, Olive wondered at the suitability of Jack being in the middle of nowhere alone with a girl on the brink of womanhood; especially a girl who watched his every move, anticipating his every need.
‘With luck you’ll have a decent roof over your head by winter, Miss Olive,’ Adams said, revealing a bottle of rum. ‘He could have rebuilt the Mankells’ place, but he said he wanted something new for you.’ Adams took a swig of rum, the liquid patterning his beard in the firelight.
‘Is there a house already here?’ Thomas held out a grease-rimmed pannikin for a splash of the rum.
‘Go easy on that,’ Jack cautioned with a frown.
Thomas gave a mock salute. His elder brother had changed in the few short months since he left Sydney. The easy banter that once flowed between them had been replaced by an almost aloof attitude. He seemed older, more serious. Was this what independence did? Or had Jack merely absorbed the strange loneliness of his new home.
‘On the western side of the river there’s a homestead. Needs a lot of work though,’ Jack revealed. ‘Besides,
I want Olive and me to have something special.’
Squib pressed her lips tightly together and threw a scatter of bones into the darkness. She retreated to just outside the rim of the campfire.
Jack stuffed a wooden pipe with tobacco and he and Adams puffed away, their conversation interrupted by the ongoing relighting of the tangy tobacco and the slurping of rum.
‘I can’t take the girl with me, Jack. At least not this trip. Reckon you’ll have to tie her up to keep her out of mischief.’
There was a scrabbling of leaves as Squib moved further away from the fire. She’d sooner shoot the man than have him touch her again.
Jack took a swig of rum, and wiped his mouth with his hand.
‘My suggestion,’ Adams continued, ‘is to make use of the girl while you’ve got her. Let her pay for her keep.’
‘I’ve been thinking. Perhaps the best thing to do is to put a notice in the Stringybark Point paper when you eventually get back to town. Let people know she’s here.’ A spray of embers rose into the air. Jack pushed a skinny log into the fire. ‘I’m sure she’s lonely for her kin. She doesn’t sleep at night. Wanders around like a night owl or lies awake.’
‘Not natural,’ Adams replied. ‘Not natural, are you, girl?’ He scanned the blackness. ‘Anyway, have a think about that notice. You might appreciate a bit of help.’
‘Maybe if people treated me nicer rather than spending their time trying to be rid of me things would be better,’ Squib replied. She hoped Jack felt bad.
‘You go to sleep and wake up to see your house burnt and think how people should treat you,’ Adams argued. ‘I’d be tying her up of a night. That’ll stop her shenanigans.’
Thomas finished his rum. Here he was sitting around a camp fire as Adams talked about tying up a girl to keep her out of trouble, and the expression hadn’t altered on his brother’s face. He wiped sweat from his brow.
‘You better get cracking on the house, Jack. We don’t want your lady here burning up for lack of shelter.’ Adams took another swig of rum and winked at Olive. ‘Reckon we better send word for a priest.’
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