Band of Gold (16 page)

Reading her mind, Binda snorted and said, ‘That Warrun, he throw good, he hunt good, he track good, and he think he be so clever.’

Kitty laughed out loud. It was time to go home.

W
hen Kitty and Amber got back to Lilac Cottage, there was a note on the table saying:
Gone out, keeping low. Mr Wong would like you to visit him at the Chinese camp. Will see you tonight. Rian xxx

Kitty was vaguely annoyed: she had wanted to talk to him about exactly how soon they could leave Ballarat. She did realise, however, that it wouldn’t be particularly prudent of him, or the crew, to sit around waiting to be visited by the police. They wouldn’t be at the top of Commissioner Rede’s list of insurgents to be arrested, but they had been in the compound the night before, and Rian, especially, was known to Sergeant Coombes.

She showed the note to Amber, whom she had decided to forgive now that it was clear that Leena’s children were safe. ‘I wonder what he wants?’

‘I don’t know. But it might be about Bao.’

‘Why would it be about Bao?’ Through the window, Kitty watched Bodie stalk a bird.

‘Because she hasn’t been very happy lately.’

‘Bao hasn’t?’ Although, now that Amber had mentioned it, Kitty did recall that Bao had been even quieter and more reticent than usual. She had lost weight, too, her hair had lost its lustre, and shadows darkened the delicate skin beneath eyes that now appeared perpetually dull. Kitty had assumed the child was simply not sleeping well, perhaps because of the heat, but had not, to her shame, given the matter much thought beyond that. ‘Do you want to come with me, then? To the village?’

‘I do, but I want to go and see Patrick as well.’

‘I’m sure you do, love, and it’s a nice thought, but you can’t.’

‘We can’t just leave him in the lock-up by himself.’

‘He’s not by himself, and I’m sure Maureen will have been to see him by now.’

Amber kicked the leg of a chair so that it shunted across the floor in grating increments. It was rather annoying. ‘Will they hang him, Ma?’

‘What? No, of course they won’t!’ But Kitty mentally crossed her fingers for the second time that day.

‘They might, you know.’ Silence for a moment. ‘Will Pa be arrested, too?’

Ah. Kitty sat down. ‘Oh, I really don’t think so, sweetheart. Is that what’s worrying you?’

‘But he’s already been arrested here twice. And he was right in the middle of the fighting last night.’

‘Yes, he was, but he’s going to do his best not to be arrested for this.’ Kitty realised how weak her words sounded, and saw that they weren’t doing much to bolster the girl’s confidence. She took Amber’s hands in hers and looked her daughter in the eye. ‘I know your father gets into some scrapes from time to time. Some quite bad ones, occasionally.’ They both allowed themselves a little giggle. ‘But nothing is going to happen to him here, I swear.’ She looked towards the door as Bodie trotted in, a recently murdered willie wagtail in her
mouth, dragging it between her front paws. ‘I swear on Bodie’s life, all right? Your father will be fine.’

Amber regarded her for a moment, then nodded in acceptance and ducked under the table to shoo the cat outside.

Kitty, however, didn’t feel quite so convinced by her own words.

Wong Fu passed her a tiny cup of the aromatic green tea he always offered her when she came to visit, and perched on the tea chest that served as a stool.

‘Forgive me for insisting that we talk in my tent, but I wish this conversation to remain private. You are not discomposed by being alone with me?’

It was a very frank comment, but Kitty had become accustomed to such ingenuousness. Out of the public eye, at least. Around those he did not count as friends, Wong Fu could be extremely circumspect.

She settled herself more comfortably on the cot which was presumably his. Its twin—just as narrow and no doubt equally unforgiving—sat against the other side of the small tent, the worn fabric doll on the flat pillow confirming that it belonged to Bao.

‘No, I’m not, Mr Wong. Thank you for asking.’

Wong Fu sipped his tea and looked uncharacteristically ill at ease. And very tired, the shadows beneath his eyes accentuated. ‘How is Amber?’ he asked.

‘She’s well, thank you.’

He nodded. Another silence. Kitty waited. Then: ‘The clash at Eureka last night. You witnessed it?’

‘It was more than a clash, Mr Wong, it was a rout, and it hasn’t stopped yet. The soldiers and police are still out and about causing havoc, and the town’s reeling. Have you not left your camp today?’

‘No. And we will not until this has settled. It is nothing to do with us.’

It wasn’t, either, Kitty reflected. The Chinese would go on working the edges and the dregs of the goldfields regardless of the politics of the other diggers, silent, inscrutable and unpopular.

Wong Fu set down his cup and sighed. ‘Bao has been terrified. She has spent the past four nights cowering on her cot, the blanket over her head, weeping.’

Kitty looked at him aghast. ‘But…why?’

His shoulders rose, then slumped again in defeat. ‘I have asked her, of course, but she will not tell me. Not directly.’ He sighed again, the creases at the corners of his mouth betraying his anxiety. ‘I fear something has happened to her mind. With our continued persecution, and the growing tension over the past months and the soldiers coming, she has been…not quite with us.’ He picked up the end of his queue, examined it momentarily for split ends while he gathered his thoughts, then let it drop. ‘And since the terrible business with Tuttle and Searle, she has become so much worse. I am very worried, Mrs Farrell. I wish her mother were here.’

Now Kitty knew why he had asked her to call, and her heart ached for him. ‘Would you like me to talk to her, Mr Wong?’

‘Thank you for your kind offer, Mrs Farrell, but I do not think talk will help.’

Kitty blinked at his bluntness.

‘Please do not be offended. What I believe she needs most is to leave Ballarat for a time. My brother in Melbourne has his wife with him. I would like her to go there. I will be forever in your debt if you would take her there for me.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes. I cannot go myself as I have commitments here, and she has told me she will not travel in the company of any other man unchaperoned, and I will not force her to. You must understand what lies behind her insistence about that.’

‘Yes, of course I do.’

‘I will pay all your expenses, of course, and compensate you for your absence at the bakery.’

Kitty waved away such silliness. ‘I will need to speak to my husband. The situation is a little delicate at the moment. He managed to become involved in the battle last night and Rede’s men are still trying to track down the participants. If I were to go to Melbourne I’d want to make sure he’s avoided arrest before I leave. When were you thinking of sending her?’

‘If you are amenable, at the end of the week?’

Kitty thought; it was Sunday today, five days should be long enough. Unless Sergeant Coombes decided to play out a vendetta. ‘I would be honoured to escort Bao to Melbourne, Mr Wong. We’ve become very fond of her over the past few months, and I’m extremely sorry to hear that she’s not well. But I do need to speak to Rian first.’ She stood and smoothed her skirts. ‘Can I give you my answer tomorrow?’

Wong Fu rose too, his face almost slack with relief. ‘Of course, of course.’ He bowed deeply. ‘I am
most
grateful, Mrs Farrell.
Most
grateful.’

Kitty felt herself going pink, and turned away. But at the flap of the tent, she paused. ‘Mr Wong: Searle and Tuttle—did you kill them? Because I thought Rian had done it, but he says he didn’t.’

Wong Fu regarded her, the teapot and little china cups stacked in his hands. Then he shrugged. ‘What choice did I have, Mrs Farrell? She is my daughter.’

Kitty walked through the Chinese camp until she found Amber and Bao, engrossed in playing with a litter of possibly the sweetest kittens Kitty had ever seen.

‘No—before you ask,’ she said to Amber.

‘But Ma—’

‘No, love.’

‘But—’

‘No.’ Kitty crouched in front of Bao. ‘How are you feeling, sweetheart?’

‘Very well, thank you. Have you been speaking to my father?’

‘Yes.’

Bao just nodded, and stared at her feet in their little slippers.

Kitty felt awkward. ‘Well, he did say you haven’t been feeling your best lately. So, if there’s anything you might ever like to talk about…’

‘I will remember. Thank you very much,’ Bao murmured, politely but effectively cutting her off.

Kitty exchanged a glance with Amber, then stood up. ‘Well, come on, love, we’d better be going.’

Amber gave Bao a little wave, and they left her where she was, her lap full of wriggling kittens.

Kitty suddenly gave her daughter a quick hug.

Amber looked at her. ‘What was that for?’

‘Because I love you.’

As they walked briskly back into town, they began to encounter newly posted bills featuring advertisements offering substantial rewards for the apprehension of various ‘rebels’. To Kitty’s enormous relief, Rian’s name was not on them.

The next day, Friday, they would be off to Melbourne, and Kitty was very pleased to be going. Two days ago, 800 troops led by Major-General Sir Robert Nickle had arrived in Ballarat and martial law had been declared. The mood in the town had quickly transformed from one of stunned shock to anger, and the authorities were responding accordingly. Rian had decided to stay behind, but had insisted that Amber go with Kitty and Bao, and that Simon and Haunui chaperone them, and, because Amber was going, Tahi demanded to go, too.

As of the afternoon before, Daniel was also going, as he had fallen
in the shaft and was nursing what he was insisting was a sprained arm. It was very obviously more than sprained, however, which is why he, Simon and Kitty were at the doctor’s surgery now. And while he couldn’t work, Rian reasoned that he might as well make the trip to Melbourne alongside Haunui and Simon, given the many rumours of bushrangers, and check on the
Katipo
.

Rian, too, was at the surgery, slightly drunk from the whiskey he’d imbibed to dull the ache of a troublesome back tooth. But not as drunk as Daniel, who could barely stand up, such was the pain caused by his arm. The door opened, the doctor beckoned, and in they all trooped. Once the various maladies had been explained, the doctor told Daniel to remove his shirt then lie on a sturdy table, both of which he achieved with difficulty.

Doctor Hurley, his white sleeves held above his wrists by garters, grasped Daniel’s lower arm and proceeded to manipulate it rather energetically. When Daniel began to retch, the doctor gestured to Simon to retrieve a bucket from beneath the table.

‘You’ve broken it,’ Doctor Hurley diagnosed as he gave the arm an extra hard prod. ‘Not through the skin, though, that’s a bonus.’

Daniel turned his head and vomited into the bucket. Mostly.

‘Go easy, for God’s sake!’ Simon exclaimed. ‘You’re hurting him!’

‘Yes. Unavoidable, I’m afraid.’ As though Daniel might be deaf as well as drunk and in possession of a broken limb, the doctor said loudly: ‘When did you sustain the break?’

Daniel, his eyes bleary and half-closed, mumbled, ‘Yesterday.’

Doctor Hurley nodded. ‘That’s all right, then. Not too late.’ To Simon, he said, ‘I’ll need your help, if you will. I want you to grip his upper arm while I pull the hand and align the bones, then I’ll apply a splint. How much did you say he’s had to drink?’

‘I didn’t,’ Simon replied, ‘but quite a lot.’

‘Yes, I can see that. I hope it’s enough.’ Doctor Hurley turned to Kitty. ‘You might like to leave the room, madam.’

‘No, I don’t think so. I’ve seen worse,’ Kitty said.

‘Are you ready?’ Doctor Hurley asked Simon. Simon nodded and the doctor gave a firm, steady pull on Daniel’s hand, who passed out as pieces of his radius grated past each other and slid back into alignment.

‘Well, that was easy!’ the doctor said cheerfully. ‘Madam, would you mind?’

Kitty kept the tension on Daniel’s hand while the doctor fitted a pair of splints from his elbow to his palm and bound them tightly with layers of bandage.

‘There, that should do it.’ To Simon, he said, ‘Presumably, you work with this man? Yes? Tell him, then, not to remove the bandages for six weeks. Should they become loose, simply apply more over the top. The bones should have knitted by then and the arm be functional. With luck.’

Daniel’s eyes fluttered, then he coughed and let out a watery burp. Simon whipped up the bucket, but Daniel pushed it away. Instead, he almost but not quite focused on Kitty and slurred, ‘Kitty, angel, please: it hurts, make it go away.’

Kitty and Simon exchanged a horrified glance, and Kitty shot a look over her shoulder at Rian, who, scowling and worrying at his bad tooth, fortunately hadn’t heard.

‘Get him out!’ she whispered to Simon under her breath. Simon helped Daniel off the table and hastily escorted him from the room.

‘Next,’ Doctor Hurley said, eyeing Rian.

Reluctantly, Rian approached the table, but the doctor redirected him to a high-backed, upholstered chair. When the doctor depressed a pedal, the chair back lowered, affording him a better view into Rian’s mouth. He dug around for a minute, murmured ‘Mmm’, then reached for a large pair of pliers.

Hovering nearby, Kitty said, ‘Excuse me, if you don’t mind’, and gestured at the instrument.

Doctor Hurley looked at it. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon.’ He wiped the business end of the pliers with a piece of muslin and dropped the cloth into a tray.

Kitty inspected it distastefully. As she had suspected—chestnut-coloured horse hairs.

After a deft flick of the wrist and a muffled curse from Rian, the offending tooth was out a moment later. It was indeed rotten, and brought with it a clot of blood and foul-smelling pus.

‘
That’s
much better out,’ Doctor Hurley remarked, and pinged it into the bucket into which Daniel had vomited.

Rian spat, rinsed his mouth with the whiskey he’d brought with him, and said, ‘What do I owe you?’

‘Are you paying for the other chap as well?’

‘Yes, he’s one of my men.’

As Rian handed over the money, Doctor Hurley said, ‘Are you sure he did it yesterday, and not last Sunday?’