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Robert Langley rode his horse at an easy canter. He was deep in thought as he recalled the events of yesterday. It was in the afternoon and he had been in the kitchen cutting himself off a slice of cold lamb to quell a sudden pang of hunger when he heard a horse enter the yard at the rear of the house. He had peered out through the window in time to see Frank O’Connor fall from his horse. “Drunk again,” said Robert to no one but himself. He met Frank at the back door and was about to tell him off when he noticed the alarm in his eyes. “What is it?” he asked angrily.
“I saw her, she is still alive!” blubbered Frank as he struggled to stand up.
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Lillian, I saw her in Gladstone.”
“Frank, you have had too much to drink.”
“I swear it was her. She looked just the same as the day we chased her off the cliff.”
“That’s impossible, as you well know.”
“If it wasn’t her, then it was her ghost.”
“Frank, now you are dribbling shit,” said Robert, pushing him away from the door. “Go and sleep it off.”
“On my mother’s grave, I swear it was her Robert, it was her,” said Frank as he turned and walked unsteadily from the yard.
Robert closed the door behind him. Something had scared Frank that was for sure, and he wasn’t the scary type. He would talk to him again later when he was sober.
He had spoken to Frank this morning and he repeated everything he had said the day before, the man was still shaken from the sight he had supposedly seen. It had been eighteen years since Lillian had fallen over the cliff and disappeared. He knew in his own mind that it couldn’t be Lillian. But what if she did survive? No, that was too crazy to even contemplate as he drove the thought from his mind. The farm and the assets were almost his now. It wouldn’t be long before his bedridden father passed away, he couldn’t last much longer. The doctor had only given him a few months to live. What he didn’t need now was a ghost returning from the past. Frank seemed to think that the girl came in on the midday stage.
Robert rode his horse into the main street of Gladstone, several people waved to him, he ignored them. He tied his horse up to the railing outside the hardware store. He pushed his wide-brimmed hat back onto the back of his head to see better as he entered the almost windowless store.
“Mr Perkins, do you have a moment?” demanded Robert as he peeled off his black leather riding gloves and tucked them into his belt. Perkins was serving a couple of ladies at the counter.
“You will excuse me for a second or two,” said Perkins, who scurried over to where Robert Langley was standing. It didn’t pay to keep one of the richest men in the area waiting.
“Yes, sir, what can I do for you?”
“Did a young woman come in on the stage yesterday?” asked Robert, keeping his voice low.
“Why yes, sir.”
“Do you know who she was?”
“I don’t know her personally, but I hear she was Jim Hawkins’ daughter.”
“I didn’t even know he had a daughter.”
“Neither does most of the town. I only know of her because Jim used to bring her with him sometimes when he picked up his supplies. He and his crippled wife never let the girl out of their sight. She usually stays out on the farm. I haven’t seen her for quite a few years, until yesterday.”
“A crippled wife, you say.”
“Yes, a cart accident, when she was a young girl apparently.”
“Thank you, Mr Perkins, you have been a great help.”
“Anytime, sir,” replied Perkins with a humble tone to his voice.
Robert ambled out of the store. He stood for a moment on the boardwalk to gather his thoughts. He didn’t like what he was thinking. He pulled on his gloves with an angry jerk, climbed onto his horse, and sped out of town. He didn’t take the road back to Langley Park. Instead, he crossed the hills toward Hawkins Grove.
There had never been any love lost between Jim Hawkins and himself. Robert had always sensed that Jim Hawkins had known it was he and Frank who had taken Lillian from the stage. Since then Hawkins had been a continual thorn in his side. Hawkins had beaten him several times on some large timber contracts and had made him look foolish in the sale-yards with his superior flock of sheep. Robert would do him harm if he could, but Jim Hawkins was too cunning in the business world. But there were other ways to skin a cat.
As he approached the house he steered his horse to the right to a small hill with a grassy knoll and a thicket of flowering yellow wattles. He removed the folding telescope from his saddle bags and focused it on the house. He could see Jim Hawkins in the vegetable garden with his son William by his side. Then he saw the girl come out of the front door, down the steps, and into the garden. He readjusted the telescope to better see the girl. He felt a faint shiver ripple through his body as he stared at her in disbelief; he suddenly felt sick and overcome with dizziness. He grabbed at the saddle horn. “Oh my God, it can’t be,” said Robert as he folded the telescope and put it back in his saddle bag.
“Can I help you, Mr Langley?”
Robert reached for the pistol tucked in his belt.
“I wouldn’t do that if’n I was you.”
“Can’t a man go for a ride in the country without being molested,” said Robert as he looked down at the steady gnarled hands of Ned Willis. He had an old single barrel shotgun pointed straight at him.
“This ere’s private property and you have no right to be ‘ere. I should march you down to Jim. He would love to see you.”
“Mr Willis, you are overdoing it a bit, I’m just out for ride. It’s a lovely day. Surely you are not going to shoot me for that?”
“Ye are a ly’in stinking snake. Get out of ‘ere before I blow you apart.”
“We will meet again, Mr Willis,” said Robert as he glared down at the squat, grubby figure in dirt-stained clothes that aptly befitted his station.
“I would hope so, Mr Langley.”
Robert yanked on the horse’s reins and turned away and rode back down the other side of the hill towards Langley Park. Neither of them saw the tall rider on the grey horse set back in the scrub.
Hawkins' Grove Page 13