Squib’s head spun. ‘What about Absolution Creek? Jack left it to me.’ She recalled his last words, that he would always be by her side there.
‘A young girl alone in the scrub,’ Veronica pleaded. ‘Why, there are wild men and natives and any number of calamities that could befall you. Come with us. Make a life with us.’
Squib shook her head, her thoughts clearing. ‘They’d come after us for sure. There will be people wanting an end to all of this, wanting to make an example.’
Veronica paused from stuffing the hotel towels into a canvas bag. ‘She’s right, Scrubber. If we all stay together it could be risky.’ She gave Squib a hug. ‘Go back to your Absolution Creek. We’ll stay at the Five Mile for a month.’ Veronica smoothed Squib’s hair. ‘Join us there when things calm down.’
‘You awake then, Squib?’ Scrubber poked at her shoulder. If he was freezing he could only guess at how Cora felt. Her skin was grey.
‘Sure. I’m awake. I’m perched in a tree six foot up off the ground with flood water swirling below me. I’d hardly be asleep.’
Scrubber gave a croaky huff. ‘No point getting annoyed with me. Do you remember that morning when you left Stringybark Point?’ He retrieved the pouch.
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I did what you wanted. I went down to the lock-up and scraped up some of the ash.’
Cora turned to him. ‘You did what?’
‘On account of the fact you would have done it and on account of the fact that your father wanted me to let you know where they buried him, if he’d made it to Sydney. Well, he didn’t even get a proper grave. Anyway, the lock-up was at the rear, remember. The bars were still standing the next day.’ Scrubber set the pouch in her hand. ‘I reckon most of what’s in there is him.’ Scrubber scratched his chin. ‘I think.’
‘This is –’
‘Yep, that would be your father, Matt Hamilton, all six foot plus of him. Or near-abouts. Built like a brick outhouse, he was, with a face women loved.’
Cora hugged the pouch to her chest.
‘He weren’t a bad travelling companion, although Dog complained about favouritism from time to time on account of me looking after your father first of a night when we made camp. Anyway, it took me some time to get back to you but a man always keeps his promises.’
‘Oh, Scrubber, I can’t believe it.’
Scrubber gave a chuckle. ‘I guess a man like me with no family worth speaking of . . . well, sometimes he just fixes his mind on a person until they become kin.’ The countryside was submerged under an inland sea. Sticks, grass and a dead kangaroo floated past a stand of box trees.
Cora cradled the cracked leather pouch. ‘You must be the best person in the whole world, Scrubber. Our family was lucky the day Father met you.’ She squeezed his gnarly hand, her eyes brimming.
In an instant Scrubber felt the knife slip between Jack’s ribs; recalled the Hamilton family leaving Waverly Station in the dead of night.
‘To think you’d travel all this way, after all these years.’ Cora sniffed. ‘This means the world to me, to be able to bury my father.’
He could have told her he was dying, that he’d run out of excuses, that he wanted to go to his maker with a clean conscience. That was what he’d thought on leaving the hilly country. Now he wanted more, and wanting more meant he couldn’t tell Cora the truth about the past.
‘Well, you always were Matt’s favourite.’
‘Did he tell you that?’
‘Sure he did, girly. Took after him, Matt reckoned.’ Scrubber cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, you bury him proper like and look to the future.’
‘The future,’ Cora repeated. ‘I’ve always found it pretty hard to escape the past.’
‘Well, you can’t have a life with dead people,’ Scrubber replied sagely. ‘A person’s got to let go and move on.’ Rich words, he mused, when he’d been incapable of doing the same.
‘Maybe I’ll try doing that, Scrubber. Now you’re here, once we get out of this, we’ll be able to sit down and talk about the old days. There are so many things I want to ask you, so many things I need to know.’ Cora’s teeth chattered with coldness. She tucked the pouch down her shirt front.
‘Sure thing, girly.’ Scrubber thought of the people left in the world who knew him. After all the miles travelled and the years spent brewing, in the end only Squib’s good opinion mattered. It mattered far more than forgiveness. How could he tell her the truth?
Chapter 61
Absolution Creek, 1965
The helicopter continued to hover over the Absolution Creek homestead. Meg peered out the side of the machine straight down into Cora’s bedroom. Most of the ceiling had collapsed in on itself and the walkway appeared to have sunk a good foot into the ground. Only the leopardwood tree remained rooted securely to the earth, its branches sprawling starkly over the homestead’s gaping roof as Sam was winched into the air. Tripod was in Sam’s arms as the cable reeled them upwards and he gave a bark of acknowledgement when they reached the opening of the hovering chopper. The twins were securely buckled in either side of Meg and Kendal, Curly sitting safely between Meg’s legs.
James freed the dog from Sam’s grip and handed Tripod across to Meg. He replaced the headphones over his ears as Sam stepped out of the rescue harness. ‘Can we do another run over the creek?’
The pilot tapped the fuel gauge. ‘A brief one, James. I can’t risk running low and I still have to drop this lot off at your place before I head back to Stringybark Point.’
The helicopter dipped its nose as it lifted and then flew eastwards. The land surrounding the house was covered in water. Here and there patches of grass broke the shallow coverage as they flew towards the dam. ‘This is local water from the rain, not flood water,’ James informed them, pointing to the white of the dam’s bank. Thirty or so rams were bunched atop it, along with a couple of kangaroos and two poddy lambs. ‘There’s Montgomery!’ James called loudly to Meg and Sam. ‘Cora got him out.’ Absolution Creek’s prize ram lifted his rain-matted head and sniffed the air as the helicopter flew overhead.
The land shimmered under the rays of the afternoon sun. The cloud was breaking in the west and in the fledgling light it became easier to see the path of the flood. The main water extended to the east a good five or so kilometres from the homestead; the remainder of the tree-dotted countryside was simply rain-drenched. Sheep were feeding out through the soggy landscape and cattle were huddled on the odd dry ridge. As they neared the creek James leant further out of the side of the helicopter. The road leading in the direction of the creek crossing was easily spotted from the air and soon they were flying to the line of trees marking the waterway.
‘Can you set me down?’
The pilot gave James a thumbs-down. ‘That’s a negative. I can’t drop you alone, James, you know that. Anyway, this flood water looks to be draining away fairly well. The current will be too strong.’
James looked at Sam. Meg nudged her husband.
‘Always did want to jump out of a chopper,’ Sam said unenthusiastically.
‘I’ve got a volunteer,’ James yelled over the noise of the rotor blade. ‘How about heading to the south-east boundary? It should be drier there and then we can walk back towards the water.’
The pilot handed James a hand-held two-way radio. ‘I’ll be back in one hour. You’ve only got a small window; it’ll be dark soon.’
Meg told Sam to take care and then crawled carefully to James’s side as her husband calmed the twins. ‘James –’ she gripped his arm ‘– be careful.’
He turned towards the water-devoured land. ‘Look –’ James pointed to the south-east where a saddled horse stood forlornly in water ‘– it looks like there’s a dog sitting on top of that animal.’
The pilot nodded. ‘I’ll be damned.’
‘You sure you want to do this?’ Sam queried. ‘Dropping into flood water isn’t high on my to-do list.’
‘This is it, James.’ The pilot gav
e a thumbs-up.
James whipped the headphones off. ‘This is Cora we’re talking about, Sam.’
‘Fine,’ Sam responded dully.
The helicopter found a spot well clear of the worst of the water and hovered close to the ground. ‘If you don’t want to help then bugger off, but I’m going to find her.’ He jumped out the door of the chopper and landed in knee-deep water.
Sam turned to Meg. ‘I know you liked him, but it looks like you lucked out.’
Meg watched as Sam jumped from the helicopter, slipped and fell over on the soggy ground. She never had been religious, but on the odd occasion Meg almost believed there was a god, and today, at least, he had a sense of humour.
Around mid-afternoon, when exhaustion finally claimed Matt’s daughter, Scrubber raised his face to the clearing drizzle. In the west the sun was poking through the clouds. Opposite to where he perched, the bark of a gum tree showed a slight drop in the water’s level. Overhead a helicopter whirred towards them.
Despite the paleness of her skin and bedraggled hair she was still his Squib; the young girl he’d harmed by default. Scrubber took a long drink of her, this girl who was the last remnant of Matt Hamilton. At last he knew he could let go. He’d dreamt of a silver brigalow, a shady canopy that sheltered a grassy patch of solitude, and now the tree beckoned. Scrubber had travelled west in search of absolution. Absolution for his attack on Olive, absolution for his part in the demise of Matt Hamilton’s family and absolution for killing Jack Manning. In the end he hadn’t even bothered to discover if Squib was okay after they all left Stringybark Point, and hadn’t Matt asked him to look after his girl? Sure, they stayed the month at the Five Mile. Then he and Veronica fled east.
In the end, Scrubber realised, forgiveness wouldn’t be forthcoming. For his sins to be wiped clean he needed to admit them and if he did so Cora ‘Squib’ Hamilton’s world would be ripped apart again. What was the point of opening old wounds when he could simply leave with something far more valuable – her respect, maybe even her affection. At the thought his eyes moistened.
Slipping quietly from the branch, Scrubber splashed into the water. The cool current carried him aloft and he floated away on a dream of his earlier life. These imagined recollections centred around his time at Waverly Station and in his final fancying of how life may have unfolded. Scrubber accepted his fate. When the water took hold he was sure a silver brigalow waited just ahead and he closed his eyes in anticipation.
Seconds later leathery fingers released their grasp on a string of pearls. The luminous necklace disappeared quickly into the murky current.
A few minutes later a leathery hand rose and then very slowly Scrubber sank from sight.
There was movement and noise. Cora would have answered the voices were she not so unsure of where she was. The lower part of her body was numb, while the upper half stung with constriction. Flashes of churning water, a horse and a mangy dog were interspersed with the images of the main street of Stringybark Point and Scrubber. Jack Manning lay dead in her arms, blood seeping into dirt and dust. Cora sobbed for the man she’d loved and lost, yet when she imagined him again it was a young girl, Squib, who was with Jack. The distance grew between the scene and Cora’s imagining. Like a cloud, the picture detached itself and floated away. Cora cried out at the loss of it. She wasn’t ready to let go.
‘Let go, Cora, I’ve got you.’
There was a rush of air, a jolt of pain and then warmth.
‘I’ll have to carry her, Sam. She can’t stand. Radio the chopper and tell them we’ve got her.’
James lifted Cora into his arms. ‘It’s the old injury, James,’ she whispered, barely conscious of where she was.
‘My dear girl,’ he replied, striding through the water, ‘all wounds heal.’
Chapter 62
Campbell Station, 1965
Cora opened her eyes. Sunlight streamed through lemony silk curtains to reveal mahogany wood and cream walls. She knew she was in a bedroom, however she had expected to see a different environment; one of white and chrome. That sterile room came with an irritating nurse with a tendency towards waking her throughout the night. Rubbing sleep from the corners of her eyes Cora struggled up in the bed. This was the Lemon guest room at Campbell Station. Clearly her delusions were lessening, but her memory still suffered from infuriating gaps. Snatches of the hospital, of a helicopter, of James carrying her, were interspersed with flood water and the strangest of dreams. Cora was almost certain Scrubber McCoy had been by her side, had in fact rescued her from the swollen creek. But that couldn’t possibly be true, and even the fractious night nurse agreed: no one else had been rescued from that part of Absolution Creek. Flipping back the bed covers, Cora stared at her plastered leg. She sure had done a proper job on herself this time.
‘How are you feeling?’ Meg, her arms stuffed with books and magazines, dumped her hoard on the bedside table. ‘You’ve been out of it for quite a few days.’
‘My waist is sore.’
Meg patted her hand. ‘You were strung up in a tree, Cora, when James and Sam found you. Damn smart thing to do. The doctor said that you probably would have fallen out of it otherwise. You were pretty weak.’ She poured water into a glass.
Cora wanted to ask about Scrubber but she didn’t want to sound like a crazy person.
‘This was with your belongings at the hospital.’ Meg handed over an old leather pouch.
Cora clutched it in amazement. Scrubber wasn’t a hallucination! He’d saved her.
‘Is everything okay, Cora?’
‘Yes, fine. Thanks. Is everyone else okay?’ She accepted the water gratefully, taking a noisy gulp. Images of Scrubber sitting in the tree next to her flitted through her brain.
‘Well, Kendal had a bit of an accident, however he’ll be fine, and Sam’s left.’
‘Left you and the girls?’ Cora sat the glass on the table, but kept the pouch tightly in her hand.
‘It’s a mutual decision. And I’m leaving as well. I’m going back to Sydney tomorrow, with Mum.’
Cora shook her head. ‘Jane’s here?’ Seeing her stepsister while laid up like an invalid wasn’t exactly how Cora pictured their first meeting after all these years.
‘Yes.’ Meg looked a little uncomfortable. ‘I know it’s not the best timing for it.’ She glanced at Cora as if expecting agreement. ‘It’s just that I’ve been staying here with James for a week now and although he’s been very kind I think it’s best if the girls and I leave.’
Meg’s cheeks were a mottled pink.
‘Oh.’ Cora didn’t understand.
Meg made a fuss of straightening the magazines. ‘He’s a good man, Cora, and he’s certainly not hanging around Absolution to check on the livestock.’ She looked at her aunt almost severely. ‘You know he slept at the hospital while you were there?’
‘No, I didn’t know. I’ve been hallucinating a little.’ Cora tilted her head sideways. ‘You like him,’ she stated. ‘Have you and he . . . well, have you –’
Meg’s cheeks turned scarlet. ‘No.’
Cora closed her eyes briefly in relief. ‘Anyway, why is Jane here and why don’t you go back to Absolution Creek while I’m recuperating?’
‘We thought you’d drowned, Cora. Mum was already on her way here when James found you. Anyway, I have to get back to Sydney somehow.’ Meg took Cora’s hand in hers. ‘Cora, the house is ruined. There isn’t anything to go back to. What hasn’t fallen down will have to be destroyed and then totally rebuilt.’
‘Then I have nothing.’
Meg gave a wan smile. ‘You have the land.’
‘But I don’t own Absolution Creek. I was only the manager, and if I default on just one payment the contract is terminated and then I have nothing. I’ll never be able to repair the flood damage let alone build another house.’ Cora ran her fingers through messy hair.
Meg frowned. ‘I don’t understand. I thought you owned the property. I thought I’d inherit it. That’s
half the reason why I made the decision to move. I couldn’t think of any other purpose for you to have contacted me. It’s not like you needed a carer.’
Cora manoeuvred to the edge of the bed and carefully lifted her plastered leg to rest both feet on the floor. ‘Are you sure that you don’t understand, Meg? Think back to the little girl, Squib.’
Meg tilted her head to one side. ‘What?’
‘An eye for an eye.’ Cora softened her voice. ‘Your mother took everything from me and so I wanted the only thing left of her. I wanted to make her mad. I wanted to come back into her life and change hers, however insignificantly. I wanted you to understand what she did. I told you that the night we sat by the fire.’
Meg gave a burst of laughter. ‘Me? I’m not sure if my moving out of Mum’s place had the effect you were after.’
‘Maybe not, but now you know the truth. She never would have revealed it.’ Cora gave a satisfied smile. ‘Little wins are sweet.’
Meg frowned. ‘A little similar to your Aboriginal ancestry – a small fact you omitted to mention.’
‘Et tu, Brutus?’ Cora’s niece was silent. ‘Maybe now you can understand the importance of Absolution Creek. It protected me. It gave me the one thing white people couldn’t touch – self-respect.’
‘Yes, you always did have the uncanny knack of falling on your feet.’ Jane Hamilton stood in the doorway, her grey hair drawn back into a severe bun. It had been forty years since they’d seen each other, and Cora found herself facing premature old age.
‘Jane.’ Cora gave a curt nod. Meg tried to excuse herself and was halted by her mother’s hand.
‘You took Meg as revenge for Ben. You took her to remind me that you still existed.’ Jane drew the curtains open on a low hedge. Birds darted through the greenery. ‘You needn’t have bothered. Your type always survives.’ Jane fumbled with a cigarette, lit it and exhaled the smoke loudly. ‘Meg thought you were looking for an heir for Absolution Creek. I’m sure that’s why she agreed to this hairbrained arrangement of yours. I knew better, but I must admit I didn’t expect you to still be out here in this god-forsaken country and I never guessed you didn’t own Absolution.’ Jane took another puff. ‘Canny girl like you – you’re losing your touch, Squib.’ Jane drawled her stepsister’s childhood name.
Absolution Creek Page 47