Cry of the Curlew: The Frontier Series 1 (41 page)

THIRTY-EIGHT

T
he boat trip to Curtis Island brought back bittersweet memories for Kate as she gazed across at the lagoons of the river. She remembered years earlier on the same water when Luke Tracy had first spoken to her with his soft and melodious American drawl. But that seemed a lifetime ago and she knew his memory should be forever relegated to those other ghosts of her past. Now she stood at the railing of the chartered paddle-steamer with Hugh Darlington beside her.

Kate wore a fashionable light cotton dress as white as the coral sands of the tropics, with a wide-brimmed straw hat. Her chic appearance had brought one or two jealous remarks from the matrons of Rockhampton, whose idle tongues wagged that the barmaid at the Emperor’s Arms was nothing more than a brazen opportunist. Kate knew of the talk but did not care. She was stronger than the gossip and she knew that she had many friends who were quick to support her. They ranged from tough old teamsters to the dashing young Hugh Darlington. But most important were the friendships of the Cohens and the Jameses.

The weather had cleared, although rain clouds still boiled over the range of hills behind Rockhampton. It was muggy on shore, but out in the mouth of the Fitzroy River the sea breezes cooled the passengers who stood on the deck of the paddle-steamer with their picnic baskets.

The sea breeze toyed with wisps of Kate’s raven hair that had dislodged from under her hat and Hugh could not help but admire the smooth curve of her slender neck. Her pale skin was like that of an alabaster statue and he had a strong urge to kiss the back of her neck . . . maybe soon, he mused. When Kate turned to speak to Hugh, she was acutely aware that he was standing very close and that his eyes held his deepest and most intimate thoughts. Kate felt a warmth she had not known for a long time.

When the paddle-steamer drew close to the shore of the island, rowing boats were lowered and the passengers were taken ashore in relays. When the boat taking Kate and Hugh beached on the coral sand, he stepped into the warm clear water, soaking his trouser legs to the knees, and grasped Kate by her slim waist. He lifted her easily from the boat and carried her to the beach where he was reluctant to release his grasp. She gently prised his hands away with a knowing smile.

They shared the picnic with Hugh’s friends, who were mostly eligible bachelors escorting young ladies from some of the best of Rockhampton’s families. There was also a smattering of young married couples and Kate noticed that Hugh mixed mostly with the clerks, government employees and their families. Kate found them rather stuffy with their affected formality and she missed the boisterous company of the tough and colourful sun-blackened men of the frontier; the teamsters, stockmen and prospectors who frequented the bar where she had once worked. That was gone now as she had given her notice at the Emperor’s Arms to pursue her newly established business interests.

The publican had expressed his bitter disappointment in losing his most popular barmaid. The tough and weather-beaten teamsters had presented Kate with a beautifully plaited stockwhip, swearing her in as an honorary teamster to their ranks. Her rowdy farewell cost the generous publican four kegs of beer but he felt that she was worth the expense as her presence at the hotel had attracted a lot of patronage over the years.

Hugh had helped set up the office and depot which she’d rented for her transport business and the Cohens regularly met with her at their store to coordinate the purchase and dispatch of goods using Kate’s bullock team for local hauls. The teamster she employed to handle Harry’s team of bullocks proved an excellent choice and the Eureka Company was off to a promising start under her capable management.

When the picnic lunch was over, the men rolled up shirtsleeves and a cricket ball and bat were produced as two teams were organised. The alcohol flowed freely between runs; champagne and gin, English beer in bottles and dark rum. Kate was bored with sitting and cheering the men at their game and she decided to take in the beauty of the island.

She excused herself and walked down to the beach alone. Hugh had been buttonholed by a client who wanted to talk conveyancing. As he was an important client, Hugh was forced to apologise for not being able to join her.

Kate flipped open her parasol and kicked off her shoes as she strolled along the sand bordered by rainforest trees. The sand felt gritty but pleasant underfoot and she had not strolled very far when she noticed a familiar figure at the furthermost end of the pleasant beach.

‘Emma!’ she cried out happily.

‘Kate! Oh, it is good to see you.’ Emma squealed with delight when she saw Kate hurrying towards her. They met and embraced.

‘Are Henry and little Gordon with you?’ Kate asked, disengaging herself from the embrace.

‘Yes. We have just arrived,’ Emma replied. ‘I left Henry and Gordon playing cricket with the others. I didn’t know you were coming over for the picnic and I love your dress.’

Kate beamed with pleasure at her friend’s compliment. ‘You know, it is the first nice dress I have bought since I left Sydney,’ Kate replied modestly and she gave her friend another hug to thank her for noticing.

‘I heard about your good fortune,’ Emma said as the two women walked over to the shade of the trees. ‘Henry and I want to visit you as soon as he gets a little better.’ An awkward silence fell between them at the mention of Henry’s recovery from the snakebite. The story of the encounter with the infamous bushranger Tom Duffy had been told and retold in the bush shanty grog shops along the bullock tracks. And even as far south as Rockhampton’s hotels.

‘Your brother saved Henry’s life,’ Emma said in a more serious tone, breaking the awkward silence between them. ‘Henry said that if he had not done what he did, then he was surely a dead man. Tom must be a good man and it’s so tragic that Henry had to go after him the way he did. But he has his duty . . .’ Emma’s short and halting statement was as much explanation as it was a plea for understanding. She had avoided Kate and Judith, as she had felt they would not understand what had occurred in Burke’s Land.

‘I should have realised how much you must have worried,’ Kate said gently. ‘How you must have thought that I would hate you for what occurred. I suppose that is why Judith and I have not seen you for a while.’

Emma nodded and there was the hint of a tear at the corner of her eye. ‘I thought you might hate Henry for doing what he did,’ she said, forcing herself not to cry. ‘In arresting Tom.’

Kate took Emma’s hands in her own. ‘Any other policeman would have shot Tom out of hand,’ she said with a gentle smile. ‘But Henry cares. I know that. And he risked his life to make sure Tom would get a chance for a fair trial. I could think of no other man on earth who could have cared as much as your Henry. He is the finest of men, Emma, and a man I consider among my truest friends.’

Kate’s gentle and reassuring words brought tears of gratitude and reconciliation to Emma, who still tried to restrain her feelings.

‘Do you know?’ Emma said, both sobbing and laughing, ‘Henry told me that Tom actually went back and bailed up the publican of some grog shanty and paid him to help get Henry to Burketown. Henry said it was the first time he knew of a bushranger bailing a man up to
give
him money.’ Both women laughed at Tom’s exploit. ‘Henry says it was not a robbery under arms but a giving under arms,’ Emma added with more merriment. ‘Mister Uhr was very good in sending Henry back to Rockhampton to recover.’

‘You and Henry must visit me as soon as you are able,’ Kate said wistfully. ‘I have a thousand . . . no, a hundred thousand questions to ask Henry about Tom. He is the only brother I have left and I miss him every day of my life. Oh, I know what people say about Tom but I only remember how much like Da he was . . .’

Kate’s sentence trailed away and Emma could see her friend was close to tears. ‘We will,’ she said, and hugged Kate. ‘And Henry will tell you just what a fine man your brother truly is. I know, he has told me.’

Hugh found the two women sitting under the trees engaged in an animated conversation. He thought it was rather ironic that the sister of the bushranger Tom Duffy should be a close friend of the policeman who could claim the dubious honour of being the only man to get close to capturing the legendary criminal. But such ironies were part of the frontier in a colony with so few people to populate it.

‘Missus James, how good to see you,’ Hugh said as he joined the two women. His roving eyes travelled over the slim figure of Emma James and he thought idly that the big policeman had done well for himself. She was pretty, in a wholesome way, although not as beautiful as Kate sitting beside her.

Emma politely returned the greeting even though she was aware of the man’s eyes appraising her and felt annoyed. He had the reputation around town of being somewhat of a ladies’ man, smooth and charming with his fine looks and delicate hands. But Emma was annoyed more for Kate, who might get hurt by the man at some future point. Then she glanced at Kate and smiled. On the other hand, Hugh Darlington might get his comeuppance should he ever cross Kate. She was a rare and special person. Equal to any man – if not better!

‘I ran into the sergeant just a few minutes ago playing cricket,’ Hugh said by way of polite conversation. ‘He tells me that he has no sense of taste and smell as a result of the bite from the snake. Terribly peculiar!’

Emma returned a wry smile. ‘At least Henry cannot tell whether I have made a mess of any meals I cook,’ she said, causing Kate to laugh lightly, as she knew full well that Emma was an excellent cook and that Henry would be cursing the fact that he could not taste her meals.

‘The good sergeant has told me you will be returning to Burketown,’ Hugh said as he sat to one side of the women, ‘when he is deemed fit to resume police duties.’

‘You didn’t mention you were going to Burketown, Emma,’ Kate stated with a questioning glance at her friend.

‘I told Henry,’ Emma replied, ‘that if he didn’t take Gordon and myself back with him I would leave him. He has this silly idea that I should be wrapped in cotton wool and left on the mantelpiece for safekeeping. I had to remind him that it was I who chose to marry him, and not the other way around.’

‘Ah, yes. A man pursues a woman until she catches him,’ Hugh said, meaning to sound witty on the subject. But he received only scornful looks from both women for his ineptness at humour on such a delicate subject as matrimony and he was wise enough to retreat from their company. He was learning something that Solomon Cohen already knew – that he was excluded from the subtle intercourse of the sisterhood.

By late afternoon the picnickers had packed and strolled down to the rowboats that would return them to the chartered steamers at anchor in the bay for the trip back to Rockhampton.

Hugh and Kate were among the last to take the trip out to their steamer. Hugh slipped Kate’s arm through his as they strolled down to the waiting boats and she did not try to stop him from doing so. As they made their way back, they were alone for a moment under the canopy of rainforest trees. It was then that Hugh stole a kiss and was stunned by her reaction to his presumptive move. Kate returned the kiss with a passion that was totally unexpected.

That evening Kate went to Hugh’s bed. And even as she did, she was not sure why she had, except that her body was hungry for the touch of a man. She did not fool herself that it was love as his delicate hands quickly and expertly undressed her. Hugh Darlington was no Luke Tracy, although she quickly dismissed any thoughts of Luke.

She was flattered by Hugh’s audible gasp of admiration as she stood naked before him in his room. The flickering set of candles accentuated the curves and dips of her body as he sat on the bed to take in the beauty of the young woman. So many men would have killed to be in his place at this time. Kate wondered why she felt no shame in giving herself to the handsome and dashing lawyer. Was it that the need to be held and possessed was stronger than any of man’s laws on morality and behaviour, she thought for a fleeting moment, as she went to him and sat on his lap with her arms around his neck.

‘I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams,’ Hugh said in an almost hoarse voice as he held Kate, ‘that this moment might occur so quickly for us.’

Kate placed her fingers on his lips to silence him. ‘Don’t say anything,’ she said. ‘Just love me.’

He drew her down onto the bed and kissed her as his hands slid along her body, searching for her thighs. She gasped and arched her back as the pent-up passion so carefully controlled for so long was unleashed. Hugh quickly shed his clothes, flinging them on the floor as he scrambled to capitalise on her need to be ravished. Neither needed the gentleness of arousal for they both recognised it had been present during the day’s outing to the island and Hugh’s thrusts were quick and hard. Within seconds he had spent himself with a long moaning shudder and he fell back against the pillows to sigh contentedly for the relief. Beside him, Kate lay on her back staring at the ceiling that reflected the flickering shadows of the candles as Hugh rolled over to find one of his cigars and light it. Kate could feel his wetness inside her and she wondered why she felt as if she wanted more. But it was not something a lady admitted to and she was grateful that he had found her so desirable. He was, after all, an extremely attractive and successful man. And she knew there were many other young ladies in Rockhampton who would have clawed her eyes out to be in her place at this moment.

Hugh Darlington could not believe his good fortune as he lay back against the sheets admiring the curves of the woman who lay asleep beside him. It had not taken a fortune to get the beautiful woman to his bed and now all he had to do was keep her there. But that would not be hard, as he knew he had the looks and charm to do so.

THIRTY-NINE

C
urious glances were cast in the direction of the tall bearded man who stood self-consciously in the schoolyard as the children poured out of their tiny, one-roomed timber schoolhouse. Screeching like cockatoos they passed Luke who smiled at some of the frank stares directed at him by scab-kneed, snotty-nosed kids who ducked their heads and giggled. Like an army of marauding ants, they headed for a paddock, where they spread out in search of mischief.

A young and pretty woman was the last to leave the schoolhouse. She also cast a curious glance at the tall stranger, who strode towards her with his broad-brimmed and battered hat in his hand. He vaguely reminded her of someone else she had once known. It was in his face, the faraway look of a man who was used to seeing the distant horizons from astride a horse, she thought. And it was his sparse and lean frame ravished by privation and fever, and the gun tucked behind his broad leather belt, which marked him as a man of the frontier. The display of guns was rare in Toowoomba, which enjoyed a conservative reputation for staid respectability.

The tall man fixed her with his striking blue eyes and smiled shyly.

‘Miss Jones?’ he asked when he came to a stop in front of her, and Rose returned the smile.

‘Missus Carr. I am married to Mister Robert Carr,’ she replied diffidently.

‘But you were once Miss Jones, I believe, ma’am?’ he asked and she nodded. ‘If I could just have a moment of your time, ma’am, I have something to tell you.’

‘It’s about Jack, isn’t it?’ she replied sadly, staring past the American at the departing backs of her brood of sometimes unruly pupils.

‘If the man you mentioned is the same one I met up north, then this is the first time I’ve know’d his name.’ He paused and continued politely. ‘My name is Luke Tracy, ma’am. Should have said so when I first spoke to you.’

‘Mister Tracy, I notice that you are an American from your speech,’ Rose commented. ‘Were you teamed up with Jack?’

‘No, ma’am. I met Jack . . .’ He hesitated and fidgeted with the battered bush hat in his hands . . . How could he break the news to the young woman who stared up into his face with such a stricken look of dreaded anticipation? ‘Jack is dead, Missus Carr. I was with him when he died and I gave him a Christian burial . . . if it’s any good to know,’ Luke said gently.

Her expression crumpled like the shattered facade of a beautiful marble wall, but she quickly recovered.

‘It was inevitable,’ she said sadly. ‘Poor Jack! How did he die, Mister Tracy?’ she asked in a controlled and almost calm voice.

‘Speared by the myalls south of Cape York Peninsula.’

Rose swayed and Luke took her by the elbow to guide her to a log seat erected in the schoolyard under a big old gum tree. He sat beside her while she recovered her composure. She had hoped that she would be in control when the news was eventually relayed to her of the prospector’s inevitable death. But the actual realisation was no less painful.

She sat staring straight ahead in silence as if Luke was not even in her presence and, in the awkward silence that followed, Luke wondered if he should not leave her and return later.

‘I must seem very cold to you, Mister Tracy,’ she finally said. ‘But you must also realise that I truly loved Jack for many years. And for those many years, I was young and believed in his dreams that one day he would find the gold he was always searching for. That he would return to me like some crusading knight of old to build me a castle. Jack used to have such foolish dreams of giving me the riches of the world, when all I ever wanted was to have him with me. But he could never see that I loved him for the wonderful, generous and gentle man that he was. Then one day he finally rode out and I told him I could wait no longer for him to return with his pockets empty . . . and the promise, that, just one more time . . .’ She choked as the tears welled at bitter and beautiful memories of the man she had once loved.

Luke remained silent and he thought of Kate in Rockhampton . . . Was love such an important part of life, when a man’s duty was to provide for his woman the best way he could?

Rose wiped away the tears that had streamed down her pretty face and she continued to speak. ‘When Jack left a year ago I promised myself that I would never take him back. He would only laugh and he’d make another promise he would return with a fortune for me. But he had said that one time too many. And when Mister Carr came into my life, I realised that there were men who were prepared to remain by a woman’s side. Men who would be there when they were most needed. A man so different to Jack. A man who did not have the need to face danger every day of his life with nothing more than a dream to keep him going. A good and predictable man who . . .’ She hesitated and turned to Luke with pleading eyes and said, ‘Do you know what I mean, Mister Tracy?’

He nodded and turned to stare straight ahead, as he did not want her to see the guilt in his own eyes. The good men stayed safe in their homes behind the frontier. And only the bad men went out beyond the frontier in search of dreams, he reflected bitterly. Maybe he should throw in his search for the elusive dream and settle down to a life in town as Solomon and Judith had always begged him to do. The little Jewish storekeeper had even promised him the management of a store he was planning to open in Townsville. But he had declined, explaining how he knew nothing of pots and pans.

‘Some men are born with a different kind of blood, ma’am,’ he said sadly as he stared at a trail of ants at his feet, labouring with the carcass of a dead grasshopper. ‘Maybe it’s a curse. But the blood makes those men restless and foolishly ambitious and they lose sight of what’s really important in life,’ he said wistfully and once again thought about Kate. Maybe too many years had passed between them for him to ever dream of finding her love.

‘I can assume that you are a prospector like Jack, Mister Tracy,’ Rose said gently to the man she sensed was also suffering from a deep loss, and Luke nodded. ‘Then I pray you find your dream before it kills you,’ she said as she touched him sympathetically on the back of his hand. Luke was reminded of a similar touch many years earlier from a woman who would be about the same age as the one sitting beside him. He smiled sadly, stood and reached into his trouser pocket to retrieve the package he had carried up from Brisbane.

‘I made a promise to Jack before he died,’ he said as he held out the cloth-wrapped bundle. ‘And no matter what, he wanted you to have this.’ She took the small bundle in her hands and stared at it curiously as he continued, ‘I didn’t know Jack long. But I figured him for a fine man who would have been happy to know that you found someone you could love. Someone who would look after you.’

Rose held the cloth-wrapped bundle without opening it, as whatever it was she felt that it should be opened in privacy. Hopefully it would be the journal he had always kept, recording his life on the lonely trails and his love for her. She was hardly aware of the parting words of the tall American. ‘Jack found his river of gold. But it done him no good in the end,’ he said as he turned and walked back to his horse tethered at the front gate.

Rose remained seated with the package in her hands, remembering the bittersweet times she had spent with the man she had once loved to distraction. But a man she had finally given up for a stable home and life with a gentle and considerate man who would always be there. At least the journal would be a part of her life to remember those days.

She slowly unwrapped the cloth, which fell open to reveal a pile of banknotes. Stunned, she sat gaping at the money in her lap and she didn’t have to be a teacher of arithmetic to know she was staring at a considerable fortune. The parting words of the American echoed in her bewildered mind.

‘Jack found his river of gold. But it done him no good in the end.’

A fiddle screeched and a young and world-weary woman sang a sad and haunting song about Moreton Bay’s brutal convict system on the banks of the Brisbane River many years earlier. Two weeks out of Toowoomba, Luke Tracy sat alone at a rough bush-crafted table just big enough to seat two men and two shots of rum. Pipe and cigar smoke clouded the room in a mist so thick that the American had no reason to light up a cheroot and smoke and he hardly heard the young woman singing her sad song, as he was engrossed in his own thoughts.

The patrons of the tiny hotel bar took little notice of the prospector. They were preoccupied vying for the attention of two other ladies who made it known they were available to share their charms with the man – or men – who paid the most.

Ironically Luke Tracy could have been just that man as he carried in a money belt enough cash to not only buy all three ladies for the night, but also the hotel and a year’s supply of its stock.

The Palmer River gold had been converted to pound notes through Solomon’s contacts in a world of transactions where questions were not asked. The gold would eventually find its way into respectability as items of jewellery and the fancy ladies wearing golden chains would never know of the blood that had been spilled to enhance their vanity.

Selling gold without government approval could incur a hefty prison term under the laws of the colony, but to disclose the gold meant revealing its source and that invited a gold rush that might leave him behind. Luke had no intention of losing the El Dorado he had searched for over the long and lonely years of his life.

He picked up the tumbler of rum in front of him. The alcohol fumed in his head and made him feel good. At least a little less morose. But it did not take away his soul-destroying loneliness. He had a small fortune and yet it meant nothing compared to the love he had for years carried with him for Kate O’Keefe. If only she knew how much he loved her. If only she knew.

‘Mister Tracy, isn’t it?’

Surprised, Luke glanced up at the mention of his name and focused on a tall and broad-shouldered man standing over him with something between a smile and a sneer on his handsome face.

‘I know you?’ Luke queried with a slight slur.

‘We met at Rockhampton back in ’63,’ the stranger said. ‘You don’t remember?’

Luke remembered and the rum in his stomach suddenly felt like bile. ‘Mister O’Keefe,’ Luke answered somewhere between a hiss and a snarl. ‘I remember. I thought you might not want to be recognised in the colony of Queensland.’

Kevin O’Keefe dragged a rickety chair to the table and sat down without invitation. ‘That might be, Mister Tracy,’ he said and he reached into the pocket of the fancy waistcoat he wore. ‘But the colony is badly in need of enterprising men with a certain kind of business acumen to make this place fit to live in. I suppose I am one of those men.’

He produced a florin coin which he placed on the table and turned to call across to the girl singing her sad song. ‘Get me and Mister Tracy another drink, Sally,’ he commanded. The girl ceased her song and obeyed with a small display of reluctance. ‘Bloody woman,’ O’Keefe scowled as he watched her walk unsteadily to the bar. ‘Should have left her in The Rocks to rot. She’ll be too drunk by the end of the night to work.’

Luke momentarily turned his attention to the girl, who was not beautiful but had a sexual appeal which was for sale as he’d guessed correctly. He turned back to O’Keefe.

‘All the women here work for you,’ he stated bluntly and O’Keefe nodded.

‘I hear you’ve been paying for your drinks with pound notes,’ he said leaning slightly forward into Luke’s face. ‘If I remember rightly from the last time we met, you said you were a prospector. So I can only surmise that you’ve made a good strike somewhere.’

‘If I had . . . what concern would that be to you, Mister O’Keefe?’ Luke answered without trying to conceal his hostility. ‘You don’t strike me as a man who would get his hands dirty doin’ an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay.’

O’Keefe’s eyes glazed at the intended slur on his character. He did not fear the American, even if he did carry a big Colt revolver tucked in the belt of his trousers. Other men had threatened him in the past, and other men had been paid with a beating that had maimed them for life. Behind his fancy clothes was still the hard bare-knuckle fighter of the tough Irish part of Sydney Town.

‘If I did what you call an honest day’s work, I wouldn’t be wearing these clothes, would I?’ O’Keefe challenged. ‘No, I provide a service no man can live without, Mister Tracy, and I am not concerned who knows. In your case, I was hoping you and I might talk about maybe a future location where men hungry for the gentle touch of a woman might go to dig for gold, nothing more than that. And I suspect you know such a place.’

Luke stared hard at the big man sitting opposite him and an image of a helpless young girl’s face gaunt with fever filled his memories. It was the image he remembered for the absolute sense of helplessness he had felt at the time. The image of Kate in her dire time of need boiled up like a rage in his belly. The speed and fury of Luke’s blow took even the experienced bare-knuckle fighter by surprise and O’Keefe felt himself propelled backwards where he hit the wooden floor with a heavy thump.

The crash of the table and chairs scattering in the small bar caught the immediate attention of everyone in the crowded, smoke-filled room. But O’Keefe was experienced in the ways of the street fighter and the blow had little more than a stinging effect on his reactions. The razor-sharp knife was in his hand in the blink of an eye.

A woman screamed and the girl who had been ordered to fetch the drinks let them fall to the floor with a crash of splintering glass. Luke was on his feet and the Colt in his hand was pointed directly at the head of O’Keefe, who lay on his back supported by his elbows.

‘You’re a lowdown son of a bitch, O’Keefe,’ Luke snarled with murder in his eyes. ‘And I should put a bullet in you right now for what you did to Kate.’

O’Keefe did not attempt to rise but he stared back at the man standing over him. He knew the American’s threat was very real and he was looking at certain death. But O’Keefe was not a man to be cowed by fear.

‘Kate!’ he said with a note of surprise. ‘You calling my wife Kate makes me think you have feelings for her, Mister Tracy.’