Dust on the Horizon (45 page)

Joseph pondered the question while he chewed another mouthful. He knew how to breed sheep that produced fine wool but he knew little about finding gold other than what he'd gleaned from others. “I'm a quick learner.”

He sensed Hegarty slide a little closer. The man appeared friendly enough.

“You'll do well to mind your own business and keep your mouth shut about anything you find. There are plenty out there who would murder their own mother for a handful of gold.”

From the corner of his eye Joseph saw the man pull a small glass bottle from his pocket. He kept it shielded in his large hand. “This is what you're looking for.”

Hegarty had Joseph's full attention now. The jar was half full of tiny rock chips, some black but most gold. Before Joseph could get a better look Hegarty had slipped it back in his pocket.

“I've sold my lease and I'm on my way to Adelaide. I don't trust that bank manager on the field to give me a fair price.”

Joseph hadn't thought as far ahead as actually selling his gold.

“I wish you luck.” Hegarty lumbered to his feet. “And if I come back to Teetulpa I'll look you up.”

Joseph watched Hegarty wend his way through the crowd. The bar was full of a mixture of all kinds of men, from some not dissimilar in appearance to Mad Mick to a well-dressed chap propped at the bar, with an ale in his hand no less. Joseph took a long draught from the mug of tea that had come with his food. He had rarely drunk a drop of liquor since he'd married Millie. He no longer looked for it but after meeting the three men here, he got the feeling that might change on the goldfields.

It was late the following morning when Joseph came over the final rise and got his first view of the goldfields. He'd known he was getting closer by the increase in volume of horses, carts and men, either going in the same direction as him or heading away along the well-beaten track. The journey between Yunta and Teetulpa had been through rugged and barren country. Now the eager anticipation he'd been feeling deserted him. Spread out before him was a flat, treeless plain dotted with small hills of dirt and tents as far as he could see. Moving amongst them were small, dark shapes, men in their hundreds if not thousands. His heart sank. How was he going to be lucky enough to be the one of those who found gold amongst so many others?

Thirty-eight

Catherine paused inside the open door. Her heart gave an extra thud at the sight of a man in her front yard talking to Charles. She had only left her son for a few minutes to fetch some cool lemonade.

“My father owns the best shop in Hawker.”

Charles's proud little voice reached her as she stepped out onto the verandah. The scuff of her shoe drew Charles's attention along with that of the tall stranger. Once more Catherine's heart beat stronger as the man turned the full force of his gaze on her. His lips turned up in a smile and his eyes sparkled as he looked her up and down. It was a warm morning but Catherine felt extra heat in her cheeks. No-one had looked at her with such candid appraisal in a long time, not even Henry.

She moved across the verandah and it was then she realised his dark skin was not from exposure to the sun but from mixed blood, she was sure. From her vantage point she looked up and down the street. It was Saturday morning and very quiet. Not another soul in sight, thank goodness. If Henry got word of a coloured man at their house he would have a fit. Any little thing seemed to upset him of late and this would be no little thing to Henry. He had no tolerance for native people and had even grown worse in his disdain for them.

“Mama, Jack is lost and he's been playing ball with me.” Charles raced across the dusty yard where once there had been grass and came to a stop at the edge of the verandah.

Catherine put the tray she had been carrying on the small table and looked from her son's excited face to the man who was still studying her brazenly.

“That was very kind of you, Mr …”

“Aldridge, Jack Aldridge.” He removed his hat to reveal thick black hair and dipped his head. “Forgive the intrusion, madam. The young lad's ball rolled out just as I was passing and before I knew it I was involved in his game.”

Catherine glanced towards the gate which was open. She had thought it closed but since the earthquake back in January it had been difficult to keep shut and sometimes swung open of its own accord.

“Well, thank you Mr Aldridge. Can I help you with directions? Hawker is not a big place, who were you looking for?”

“I fear I have been made a fool of.” The man's mouth twitched and he lowered his gaze as if he was embarrassed. “And it is my own fault.”

“In what way?”

He took a few steps towards her and replaced his hat firmly on his head so his face was in shadow. “I am passing through Hawker on my way north and I …” He glanced down at Charles who was listening eagerly.

“You may have a mug of lemonade, Charles.” Catherine put a guiding hand on her son's shoulder and watched as he moved to the table where she'd left the tray. “And a piece of cake.” Charles had already picked up a slice and was shovelling one end in his mouth. She looked back at Mr Aldridge.

He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. “I overindulged at the hotel and got drawn into a card game. I am not much of a player but I did win. One of the men who owes me said he lived in this street.” Jack scratched at his clean-shaven chin. “Said his name was John Smith.”

Once more Catherine glanced towards the street. “There are not many houses in our street. I don't recall the name.”

“No.” Jack put his hands behind his back and looked at the ground. “I suspect there is no John Smith.”

“Oh.”

“I fear I've been made of a fool of, Mrs …?”

“Oh forgive me.” Once more Catherine felt the full force of his gaze. “Wiltshire.”

The man looked so disconcerted her heart went out to him. “Would you like some lemonade and a seat in the shade before you set off on your way again?”

“That's very kind of you, Mrs Wiltshire.” He was quick to step under the verandah roof.

Catherine indicated a chair and once he was settled passed him the other mug of cool lemonade. “There's cake too if you would like.” She couldn't believe she had invited a complete stranger to refreshments on her verandah.

Charles put his empty mug on the tray. Crumbs clung to his lips.

Catherine reached out with a napkin to brush them off but he pushed her hand away. “I want to go back to my ball, Mama.”

“Of course, but take your hat.” Catherine lifted it from the back of the chair and watched her son bound back to kick his ball. He was so like his father; dark hair, a sharp look and a mouth that pursed just like Henry's if something displeased him. Charles's manner mimicked Henry's and he could even be short with her from time to time. The boy was a smaller version of his father. Catherine sometimes wondered if she had been anything more than a vessel to carry him in.

“Is it always this hot in September?”

“The days can be very warm.” She looked back at the man stretched out on her small chair looking so comfortable as if he belonged there. For a moment she glimpsed Henry's face in his and then it was gone; probably her guilt that she was entertaining a stranger without her husband at home.

“Charles said you have a shop.”

“Yes, in the main street not far from the railway station.”

“And a large home.” Mr Aldridge swept his gaze along the verandah. “Not many here built of this stone.”

“It's a relief in this climate.”

“I have only passed through Hawker on two other occasions. Your business must do well here.”

“My husband tries to stock quality goods. We are a long way from Adelaide but people still enjoy variety and distinction.” Catherine found herself sounding like her husband and if the truth be known she was actually stretching the facts. Henry had cut back a lot on the variety of items they stocked. Few people could afford his more expensive goods over the last year or so and she hadn't been needed to help as much in the shop unless Henry was away. It suited her fine. After losing her last baby it had taken her months to recover her strength and then had come the extremely hot summer. She couldn't abide the heat and spent most of her days inside, reading or sewing or playing with Charles, longing for the cool evening breezes of Glenelg.

Jack's gaze locked with hers. For a moment Catherine felt as if he could see inside her head. She put a hand to the locket that hung around her neck then dropped it to her side.

He took another mouthful from the mug. “You don't have a drink, Mrs Wiltshire?”

“Oh, no. I will have mine inside. It's getting too hot out here. Just five minutes more,” she called to Charles.

“I don't want to go in.” He stopped not far from the verandah and looked at Jack. “Would you like to play again, Jack?”

“It's Mr Aldridge, Charles, and no, he cannot play.” Catherine cut in before Jack had the chance. Something about his manner made her think he would have indulged the boy. “Mr Aldridge has things to do and so do we.” She made it quite clear she was drawing this little party to a close in spite of Charles's pouting face.

Jack got to his feet with the ease of an athletic man. “Perhaps I could have a quick kick before I set off.”

Catherine looked up and down the street again. She didn't expect Henry home until midday but he could turn up at any time or someone could walk past. How would she explain letting this man play with their son?

“We do have to go in, Charles.”

Jack stopped the ball with the side of his boot and kicked it back to the boy then he lifted his hat in a farewell gesture.

“Thank you for your kindness, Mrs Wiltshire, and for the game, Master Charles.” He swept his appraising look over Catherine again then walked out the gate and down the road with long strides.

She watched until he was out of sight.

“Do we have to go inside?” Charles's whining voice drew her attention.

“Yes, we do. You father will be home soon.”

“Perhaps he will play ball with me.” Charles glared at her and kicked at the verandah post with the toe of his new boots. They were already scuffed and dusty.

Once more panic rose inside her. Henry mustn't find out about their visitor. “I don't think you should ask your father today. He didn't sleep well last night and he will be tired when he gets home. We won't mention Mr Aldridge's visit. Now let's go inside. It's time to prepare our meal.”

Catherine picked up her tray and ushered Charles inside. She looked back at the empty street. She felt as if someone was watching her. Jack Aldridge's visit had been unsettling. She closed the solid wooden door firmly and turned the lock.

Jack stepped out of the shadows. Like he'd observed Catherine do from his vantage point beside a cottage, he glanced up and down the street. Two squealing pigs ran across the road further along closely followed by a yapping dog then quiet settled again. The wind had picked up a little, raising puffs of dust, but not a soul stirred.

He had become fed up with the lonely existence at Smith's Ridge and had treated himself with a trip to town. Brand was permanently camped in the hills and Donovan was out working on fences with the odd visit to Brand. Donovan's tough biddy of a wife was away visiting her daughter. Jack had come to Hawker for company and to find a woman to bed but he'd decided to spend the day checking on Henry's assets before he visited the hotel tonight.

Jack had arrived outside Henry's house at first light from his camping spot out of town. He'd watched as his half-brother had left, dressed for work, then a little later the woman who was his housekeeper and two children set off together from the cottage beside Henry's house. A couple of horses and carts had passed by but he'd kept out of sight. Finally Catherine and Charles had come outside. He watched Henry's pretty wife seat herself in the shade and the boy crying out for her to look at nearly every kick he made. Finally Jack heard her say she was going in to get refreshments. He'd taken the opportunity to wait for the boy's back to be turned then he'd pushed open the gate and the next kick of the ball had sent it his way.

It was easy enough to befriend Henry's son. Jack had always been able to beguile children and charm women. Catherine had been a little shocked to see him in her front yard but she'd been easily reassured. Jack had enjoyed his little play at getting close to Henry's family. Of course it was a risk that Catherine might mention his visit to her husband but Jack didn't care either way. There was little Henry could do about it. It would be a reminder to Henry that Jack wasn't totally out of reach. Jack would keep his silence about their connection for as long as Henry's money flowed or until Jack took over the lease of Smith's Ridge. Apart from the isolation he was enjoying the life. He didn't mind getting his hands dirty, especially knowing the place would one day be his. It was an opportunity he'd never thought possible until Henry had suggested it.

The last time Henry had come to Smith's Ridge with supplies he had hinted that he might not be able to keep paying Jack and the lease. Jack had soon reminded him of their deal. He grinned at the thought of Henry's screwed-up face when Jack had grabbed him by his fancy collar and pinned him to the wall. Jack had seen a glimpse of fear in his half-brother's eyes before he had shoved Jack away and regained his composure.

He glanced across at Henry's house behind its grand fence. There was an urn broken off one of the gate pillars and the gate didn't appear to shut properly. The garden was almost dead but that wasn't a surprise with the lack of rain. Henry's wife and child were dressed well enough and both looked well fed. Catherine was a little plumper than the last glimpse he'd had of her at the Hawker races the year before. He'd also noticed she was wearing the locket that had disappeared from around Harriet's neck. The older woman hadn't hid it as he'd thought but had obviously given it to her daughter-in-law.