It was still dark when Cora dismounted at the main entrance, freeing Horse to wander the parkland-like surrounds and neatly clipped English maze. Even with the recent passing of the family matriarch, Cora remained uncomfortable standing on Campbell soil. James’s forefathers had not been kind to the Indigenous peoples who roamed this land in the early days, although Captain Bob was a respected employee until he defected to Absolution Creek. Cora rapped sharply on the veranda door, stepped inside and lifted the heavy brass knocker on the main door. She knocked loudly. It was a few minutes before she was answered.
‘Cora?’
James was dressed for a day’s work. She could smell coffee and soap.
‘I’m sorry, James. I needed to see you.’
‘Is everything all right?’ He peered out into a steel-grey sky and ushered her inside. ‘You didn’t ride here?’
They were in a long hallway with leadlight doors and exposed timber beams. ‘You know me.’
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. ‘And you couldn’t use the phone or wait until daylight?’
‘And have everyone in the district know my business?’
‘Fair enough.’
They walked through a darkly furnished parlour, followed by a less formal sitting room. The rooms smelt musty. Dust and disuse hung in the corners of the aged rooms.
‘I’ve missed you.’
Cora gave an imitation of a smile. She cared too much to hurt him with false expectation. Towards the rear of the house they turned down an external walkway that led into a kitchen twice the size of hers. There was an ancient wood stove, a newer Aga and a large gas oven and cooktop, commercial in size. A breakfast of eggs and bacon was congealing on the scrubbed wooden table.
‘Coffee?’
‘Yes please.’
Cora sat in one of the high-backed wooden chairs and snuck a piece of buttered toast from James’s plate. The room was stuffy and hot thanks to a raging fire in the Aga, and condensation was forming on the windows above the double sink. Everything was spotless. Even the china cabinet with its willowy blue and white breakfast setting shone. ‘I’m sorry I’ve come unannounced.’
‘Lucky you caught me. I’ve a big day on.’ He handed her a mug. ‘I’ve got to get Mitchell’s horse back to him this morning and then I’m heading to Stringybark Point to do a shop before I get scurvy.’
Cora didn’t smile.
Instead she took a sip of coffee and played with an orange in the large fruit bowl near her elbow. ‘I’ve got a problem.’
James sat beside her and took her hand in his. ‘Apart from me?’
‘I’m serious.’ Releasing her hand, Cora retrieved a letter from her pocket. James read it through, once, twice.
‘So the little bugger’s suing you and he wants thirty-five thousand pounds?’ Turning his fork over, James shovelled fried egg into his mouth. ‘Who would have thought he had the brains to think this up.’
‘It was fifty thousand initially.’
‘Well, I’d take him to court.’ James refolded the creamy paper.
‘I’ve got a fifty per cent chance of losing,’ Cora complained. ‘He was drunk when the accident happened, however we showered him and by the time Harold drove him the one hundred-plus miles to the hospital he’d sobered up.’
‘Your word against his, eh?’
‘His collarbone was broken badly so Jarrod’s case is based around an inability to work.’
‘I’m no expert but I would have thought the odds were in your favour. You don’t look convinced?’ James took another mouthful of cold egg, pushing his plate to one side.
Cora sighed. ‘The horse float had a defective brake.’
‘So you’re thinking you should pay him out?’
‘Yes, but I can’t.’
‘Why not? You’ve got nil expenses and it’s not like you spend any money on improvements.’
Cora took the letter back. ‘Well, thanks for summing up my management style.’
‘Hey, I’m on your side. I just don’t get it.’
Practically everything inside the homestead had been there since the early 1800s. It was fine for James to be judgemental – he’d never been poor. Not really poor. ‘I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.’ She paused. ‘I was wondering if you’d lend me the money. I could pay it back over, say, ten years, with interest.’
James pushed his cold breakfast plate to one side. ‘Cora, ten years? What’s going on over there?’
‘Nothing. Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’ She rose to leave.
‘Look, sit down.’ James led her back to her seat. He took a breath. ‘You’ve got sheds that need repairs and a house that’s falling down around you.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘Even Ellen’s concerned.’
‘She never liked me.’
‘Probably not, however you never have been and never will be like anyone else. You’re an enigma, with a childhood story that’s probably done the rounds of every kitchen, shearing shed and pub in a six-hundred-mile radius since 1923. I know some of it. I know what you lost and how you got Absolution, and I can only imagine how hard it’s been for you to hold onto the property.’
‘I’ve got Jack Manning to thank for it.’
‘Cora, I appreciate what he did for you, but I’ll never respect him because of the hold he has over you. He ruined you for every man that followed. He ruined you for me.’
She’d never realised that James vaguely understood her attachment to Jack. Cora stared at the table wishing for words of explanation that would probably never come.
‘Well?’ James’s voice carried more than a hint of anger.
‘I’m here to talk about this.’ She waved the letter in his face, unwilling to be led into yet another argument.
James thumped his hand on the table, and the knife and fork clattered. ‘They’re not mutually exclusive, Cora. I know you care, so what the hell’s the problem? Why won’t you marry me?’ His amber eyes were dark.
For the first time Cora found herself on the brink of telling James why it was so impossible to commit to him fully. But how to find the words when she herself had an image of a cage and a tiny door, which now seemed permanently wired shut. She was scared of losing James. That was why she couldn’t commit to him, although her fear would hardly make sense to the man sitting opposite. She had lost the two men she loved most in her life as a girl, and she was scared that if she opened herself up to that type of desire again something would happen and she would lose James as well.
James was still staring at her, waiting. Cora gave a weak smile. Did he want her to come right out and say it? Did James really want to know that she was still in love with Jack Manning?
‘Cora?’
This wasn’t a conversation Cora wanted to have. She felt foolish and vulnerable. It was such an old wound and the depth of it meant it would probably never heal. Instead she drank her coffee, stared out the kitchen window as light flickered across the land beyond. Maybe she would be better off packing Meg and her brood back to Sydney and just walking away from Absolution. She sure as hell wasn’t going to borrow from James if it meant she had to tell him the truth. She could just imagine his reaction.
James, I know you’ve heard the story that I killed a man. It’s true. James, I don’t own Absolution and the lease runs out in a matter of years. I’m sorry. I misled you about the ownership because I don’t want anyone to know. I don’t want anyone to know because the government could take the land away from me if they wanted to. Absolution’s all I have.
‘I can’t do this, James. I’m sorry. I can only tell you that there are certain arrangements in place that restrict my –’ she gave a glib smile ‘– borrowing potential.’
‘Then I can’t lend you the money. I want you in my life. I do.’ He ran his fingers through shower-wet hair. ‘Jeez, Cora, between this vendetta you have for your sister and your inability to commit, well, let’s face it, there isn’t any room for me in your life. It’s taken me a while to understand but I don’t t
hink you’re capable of loving anyone, or at least not me. So I guess what I’m saying is that if I can’t have you then I’m at least entitled to the truth. Come back when you’re ready to share your problem with me.’
‘Point taken.’ Cora pushed out her chair. ‘You might stay away from Meg too. It was wrong of you to flirt with her that night in the kitchen on the off-chance it would make me jealous. She’s got her own relationship problems without being subjected to our debacle.’
‘Fair enough.’
Cora left him sitting at the table. She noticed that dust sheets covered most of the furniture. Weak sunlight filtered through the house as she halted at the portrait of Eloise Campbell in the dining room. Wife to a respected squatter, mother to three children, and doyenne of local society, she had been immortalised in oil. Eloise was probably turning in her grave at Cora’s presence in her beloved homestead. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that James lived under her thumb while she was alive, but Cora expected more of him; she expected more of everyone. Maybe that was why she was so hard on herself.
Outside, Horse came to Cora immediately, his hoofs clip-clopping across gritty pavers. Mounting up they turned down the dirt track and began trotting homeward. Cora kept her gaze on the road ahead. In the east, thick thunder knobs knotted the horizon, lightning glazing the grey-blue cloud. Frustration and sadness welled within her. She didn’t expect to ever return to the Campbell homestead and the reality of her loss bit deeply. It was always the same: fate always meant she would lose those she loved the most, and she did love James Campbell. Now she would never know if she could love him more than Jack.
James sipped steaming coffee, his gaze alternating between the portrait of his mother and the newspaper. Having intended to be on his way by now, he was hunkered down in the dining room trying to make sense of what Cora hadn’t said. James adjusted the kerosene lamp on the side table. The blackout had begun a few minutes after Cora’s departure and now here he was in the room he’d been firmly barred from entering as a child. He still took delight from sitting in the blue velvet armchair, his feet sinking into the top of a matching foot stool. A long low window offered an unrestricted view of the grassy plains, beyond which clouds were gathering. They perched above the western tree line, lightning barrelling across the far horizon. Eloise Campbell stared at her son from the opposite wall. Every time a disagreement occurred with Cora, James would stew about it in the company of his mother.
His mother was correct in nearly every aspect when it came to declaring Cora Hamilton’s lack of suitability as a potential Mrs Campbell. They were different, he and Cora. In everything from upbringing to social status to wealth they were diametrically opposed. Except for one thing: he loved Cora, and his mother knew it. Notwithstanding the district gossips who took sides as if they were barracking for opposing rugby teams, James knew that in her heart Eloise Campbell was a romantic. When she was alive his mother knew James rode out at dusk to return in the dark of night, knew he would cut through Absolution in the excuse that it was a good shortcut to some of his veterinary clients. She ignored these trysts and indeed often spoke of Cora as a capable woman.
James remained convinced that if they had ever met in person, Eloise Campbell and Cora Hamilton would have been ready friends, for despite their social differences they were strong-willed women who had given their lives to a demanding environment. In the end, despite the endless rumours regarding Cora’s past, there was only one thing that barred Cora from acceptance, which meant the only way his woman would have gained entrance to the Campbell homestead during his mother’s lifetime would have been if she were passing around canapes at one of her gatherings.
How disappointing, then, to discover that his beloved mother’s passing did not alter his relationship with Cora. James was starting to believe the relationship was a dead end. In fact, the thought of finishing things for good made perfect sense, except that he kept going back to her. Kept on hoping that Cora would give in and see what their life together could be. There would be no children now. He was reconciled to that, and in truth the loss of fatherhood was nothing compared to not having Cora; annoying, bossy, argumentative, intelligent, capable, Cora.
James shook his head. ‘You’re a worry, mate. She’s going to drive you to drink.’ Adjusting the kerosene lamp, he flicked absently through the pages of the Stringybark Point Gazette before dropping it on the floor. Now he had another problem: having given her an ultimatum, the woman was so stubborn that he could be assured Cora wouldn’t be picking up the telephone any time soon. James turned on the radio. He’d missed the district’s forecast so he listened to the announcer as rainfall totals for the catchment area east of them were read out. There had been substantial falls along a good forty-mile stretch of the river and the storm cell was heading west.
‘West,’ James repeated, his large fingers twiddling with the tuning dial. Static drowned out the announcer’s voice. Outside, cloud was mounting in the west heading east towards Campbell station. James didn’t like the look of it. The telephone gave a brief ring and he was up and out of his chair, walking through the sitting rooms to the kitchen.
‘Yeah, James here.’
‘James, gidday. Pat here from Wells Farm, east of Stringybark Point.’
‘Yeah, Pat, how you going up there? I’ve just heard the weather report.’
‘Average, real average. WellsTown was evacuated yesterday due to flash flooding and it’s heading your way.’
James bit his lip. ‘How bad?’
‘Well, no one can get down to the river to check heights. I’d say the water would have to be in the top end of the Stringybark Point Creek by now. Listen, I’ve tried to let a few people know downstream of here, mate, but my missus is already up on the roof. I’ve gotta go.’
‘You got help coming, Pat?’
‘We’ll be right. You’re gonna have to try and get onto some of your neighbours –’
The line dropped out. James gave three short rings and waited, tried again and waited. No one was answering at Absolution, and James doubted Cora would even be back at the homestead yet. Now what was he going to do? He didn’t particularly relish leaving his own place at this time, however a horse needed to be trucked back to the owner and that job had to come first. He could only hope that everyone was on the ball at Absolution Creek and knew what was coming their way.
The whir of an engine was soon followed by the appearance of the work truck and a Massey Ferguson tractor. The vehicles trailed through the house paddock gate to stop outside the machinery shed. Leaving the laundry and the partially hung basket of washing, Meg walked down to the shed, the lambs in pursuit. With the previous afternoon taken up with hand-filling sacks of grain to finish feeding, the repairing of the feeder was the first job of the morning. The vehicles were parked in a row outside the shed. A chain hanging from a stoutly limbed tree lifted the feeder into the air, where it dangled momentarily before being lowered to the ground and into the work shed.
The work truck appeared relatively unscathed to Meg, apart from a dent on the driver’s side door. However, the feeder was a twisted mess of steel. She was listening to Sam and Kendal arguing about the damage to it when Cora appeared on Horse, riding in from the west. Emerging near the stables she was greeted by Curly and Tripod, a welcoming party of excited barking and mad circling that failed to bring a smile. One look at her face and Meg knew that this was a woman you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of. Sam and Kendal stood back as Cora dismounted, squatting to inspect a long tear in the metal side.
‘You always have to check to make sure it’s real secure,’ Kendal stated.
Cora gave Kendal a thousand-yard stare and circumnavigated the damaged feeder once more.
‘Well, you were the one that checked it before we went into the blasted paddock,’ Sam retaliated.
‘This isn’t about apportioning blame.’ Having satisfied herself with her inspection, Cora dug her hands into the pockets of her jacket. ‘Accidents happen.�
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‘Yeah right,’ Kendal scowled. ‘Anyway, it’s buggered now. We’ll need a new one. Reckon the cost of it should come out of your wages.’
Sam kept his eyes on Cora.
‘Well, Sam’s a mechanic by trade, so he’s going to have a try at fixing it.’
‘It’s really a boilermaker and welder’s job,’ Sam explained, ‘but I’ve done a bit of both.’
Meg gave him an encouraging wink.
‘You’ll fix it,’ Cora replied. She turned to walk away.
‘Hey, Miss Hamilton,’ Kendal called after her. ‘What’s on job-wise?’
‘Leave her,’ Meg suggested, her fingers pulling on his oilskin jacket.
Kendal’s cheeks pinked up instantly at her touch. ‘Trying to figure that woman out is like trying to pick at a broken nose.’
‘Well, something’s riled her.’ Sam squatted down, ran his fingers over the buckled feeder.
Cora stared above and beyond them, turning in a tight circle as she surveyed her holding, hands on hips, hair whipping about her face. A couple of hundred yards away a brown snake slithered across the dirt to where her two dogs lolled in the grass. Cora rushed for a shovel that was leaning against the shed and raced to where Curly was barking. Tripod emerged with the snake partially twisted about his front leg. He barked and whined, finally jumping clear of the slithering reptile.
‘That’s a bit unseasonal,’ Kendal commented as Cora jabbed the sharp edge of the shovel into the brown snake until only nerves kept it writhing in the dirt.
‘Damn it.’ A few feet away Tripod was walking very slowly, almost dazed. Cora handed Kendal the shovel and moved quickly to his side. ‘You’ll be right, little mate.’ Flicking open her pocketknife she took hold of his ear and cut the top off it. Blood gushed freely from the wound. Kendal speared the shovel through the air. It landed a few feet from the shed, clattering to earth on a piece of tin.
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