Dust on the Horizon (46 page)

It looked to Jack as if Henry was doing well. Well enough to come up with the money needed to pay Jack and keep Smith's Ridge. Jack made his way back towards the main street. Where Henry's street was quiet, the main road through Hawker was the opposite. A camel train passed by on the other side loaded with wool and further towards the railway station were two wagons, also piled high with wool, while the bullock teams that pulled them stood patiently. Jack waited for a horse and cart to pass before he crossed the street and found a verandah roof to stand under. People and horses moved up and down the street. The odd dog roamed by, sniffing at the variety of animal dung that littered the road. He leaned back against the wall and pulled down his hat to obscure his face. From here he had an excellent view of Henry's shop.

At nearly midday Henry and the man who worked with him began loading up a small cart. Jack was pleased when the assistant was the one to climb up on the cart and call to the horse to set off. Henry stayed in the shade of his verandah roof a moment. He appeared to be looking in the direction of another general store where several people were coming and going. No-one came to his shop. He turned and Jack moved quickly across the road and was at the door before Henry had quite closed it. Jack pushed his way inside and was rewarded with a look of shock on his half-brother's face.

Henry's alarm quickly turned to anger. “What are you doing here?” He looked over Jack's shoulder and quickly pushed the door shut and drew the bolt. “I could have had customers.”

“It appears you haven't had any for at least a half an hour.”

Henry's eyes narrowed. “You've been watching me?”

“Would you prefer I'd just walked in regardless of who was in your shop?”

“You shouldn't be here at all. What do you want, Jack?”

“I fancied a trip to town.”

“We agreed you'd stay at Smith's Ridge, keep out of sight until it can become yours.”

Anger flared in Jack at Henry's pompous manner. He jutted his jaw at Henry. “I'm not staying there indefinitely. I could take over the lease now.”

“With what?”

“The money I've been saving.”

“But we agreed once you took over the lease you would be on your own.” Henry's voice was placating and his expression smug. “That means I stop paying you and you have to pay all other costs yourself. Your employees, supplies, stock.”

Jack clenched his jaw. For a moment he had forgotten all the other extras Henry paid for. Then he thought of his previous benefactress. “I can always go back and visit your mother. I am sure she'd gladly pay to help keep me at Smith's Ridge.”

Henry turned away and busied himself at his counter. “There would be no point. Business in Adelaide has fared no better than here.” He looked back at Jack, his dark eyes brooding. “I have tried myself to get money from my mother in recent times. She has given me what she can. That supply has dried up for now.”

Jack watched as Henry straightened a shelf of neatly folded shirts. He felt sure his half-brother was lying but he didn't push it. Harriet's reputation was widespread and Jack felt sure she would have done well with the mid-year Jubilee celebrations for both Queen Victoria and South Australia; all those Adelaide ladies would have been purchasing new dresses for the various balls and dinners that had been reported in the papers.

“Since you're here you can take some supplies back with you.” Henry was behind his counter now, once more studying Jack with his dark eyes.

“I only have my horse.”

Henry pursed his lips. “Then I will make the trip out in a few weeks.”

“We can manage till your visit.”

“You will have two less mouths to feed soon. Donovan and his wife are leaving.”

“When did they tell you that?”

“They didn't. Ellis Prosser did. His son died at the goldfields and he needs a good overseer. Donovan used to work for him.” Henry straightened some half-empty jars of sweets on his counter. “He wants him back.”

“How am I supposed to manage without a housekeeper and one man down?”

“Times are tough, Jack. We are all making allowances. Once the rain comes again things will improve.”

Jack held Henry's gaze a moment then moved around the shop. Everything was tidy but most of the shelves were half-empty and some bare. Perhaps Henry was telling the truth and he really was struggling. Jack would leave him be for now but decided he would make the trip to town more often. He had the feeling Henry Wiltshire needed closer watching.

Henry closed the new wooden door that separated his shop from the house as soon as Jack had slipped out the back way. Damn Jack Aldridge. Henry hoped no-one had seen a coloured man enter his shop. What few good customers he had were discerning. He couldn't afford to lose them. Not that they had a lot of choice in Hawker and Garrat didn't care who he let into his shop.

Henry had to maintain a civil appearance. He had an inclination to become a councillor when Hawker finally got the governor's approval for the home rule they'd been seeking for some time. Names would be put forward to the governor later in the year for his consideration of fit and proper candidates to be considered for such important positions. Henry wanted to be one of them.

As soon as Hemming returned from making his deliveries, Henry left his assistant to do the final tidying up and made his way home. Jack was foremost in his mind.

Henry hadn't been lying to Jack when he'd said money was short. He was overstretched in every direction and would sell off his Wilson and Cradock properties if he could get any money for them. He had spent a lot of money on his house and extras to keep up appearances such as the racehorse Prosser had talked him into. His store was run-down and Garrat was getting a lot of his custom. Smith's Ridge was a drain on his already overstretched finances. Donovan leaving had made no difference. He'd been there courtesy of Prosser. It was only ever meant to be a short term arrangement. Prosser liked to have eyes on his neighbour's doings but he had lost interest with the death of his son. He'd been training Rufus up to take over Prosser's Run. With the loss of a second son Prosser had gone quite mad with grief. Henry thought it best to keep his distance for a while.

He stepped into the coolness of his house and took a deep breath. Things had to get better. They just had to. He couldn't keep asking his mother for money. Unlike his, her business was booming. He'd lied to Jack about that but she was already helping to keep Jack at Smith's Ridge by assisting Henry with the lease payments. She worried about the drain on her finances. Henry had to keep reassuring her that they would be rid of Jack Aldridge eventually and Smith's Ridge would be theirs alone.

“Henry, is that you?” Catherine called from the kitchen. “I am about to serve our meal.”

“Yes.” He took off his hat, hung it on the hook and made his way to the kitchen.

Charles came running down the hall towards him, a ball tucked under his arm. “Father, Father!” His voice was high-pitched with excitement.

“Steady up young man.” In spite of his son's overexuberance in the house, Henry gazed at him proudly. Charles had been made in his image. He was already strong, good-looking and quick-witted to boot.

The boy came to a stop in front of Henry, his face lit up. “I had a game with a man in our front yard—”

“Put your ball away, Charles, and wash your hands.” Catherine's voice was also high-pitched.

Henry took in her pink cheeks. She turned away from his gaze.

“A man?” Henry looked back at his son who hadn't moved.

“Jack … or Mr Aldridge, Mother said I must call him.” Charles flicked a glare in her direction. “He kicked the ball with me. Can you do that Father?”

“Perhaps later when it's cooler. Go and wash your hands as your mother asked.”

Charles hurried off to do his bidding.

Henry tried to keep his voice calm. “What was this … Aldridge fellow doing here?”

“He was lost, that was all. He was looking for a man who had deceived him in a card game by the sound of it.”

“And you allowed a stranger to play with our son.”

Catherine picked up a plate and put it down again. He could see she was getting distressed.

“It … he came into the yard when I was inside getting a drink for Charles. He didn't stay long. Charles is excited because an adult showed him some attention. With Flora out for the day he missed having the children to play with.”

“So the man didn't bother you? He didn't say anything untoward?”

“Not at all. He was most polite.” Catherine picked up the tray she had filled with dishes for their meal. “He wasn't here for long.” She stepped past Henry and set off towards the dining room.

Henry let out the breath he'd been holding. So Jack had actually been brazen enough to come into his yard, speak with his wife and play with his child, and yet not let on his connection to Henry. Was he sending Henry a warning or just playing a game? Whatever the reason Henry had become complacent thinking Jack was out of the way at Smith's Ridge. He would have to be much more vigilant and look harder for a way to be rid of his half-brother.

Thirty-nine

Joseph huddled in the shade thrown by his tent and folded Millie's letter. His seat was a rock covered with a folded blanket. Behind him, stretched out for miles across the barren landscape, were the tents and flimsy structures of the diggings where thousands of men laboured, desperate to make their fortunes. The sounds of their endeavours filled the air. The post office where Joseph posted his letters home was said to process thousands of letters a month and was connected to the telegraph. There was also a bank, a crude hospital, a hotel and regular church services for various denominations. The field had attracted all manner of men from honest god-fearing fellows to thieves and even those who would jump a claim as quick as look at you.

Joseph hadn't intended to stop work yet but the arrival of the mail had encouraged him to take a break from the constant digging and scraping. He munched a piece of damper that he hadn't stopped to eat at midday and pondered all that Millie had written.

They were well at Wildu Creek although Robert had come down with a terrible cough which had also afflicted Lizzie. They were both recovered except that Lizzie still succumbed to fits of coughing from time to time. The land was dry. They were maintaining their remaining stock in the hills and gullies at the back of Wildu Creek where there were small amounts of permanent water. Binda spent a lot of time there. Thomas and Timothy spent their days building fences to divide Wildu Creek into paddocks. Everyone was tired of the heat but their spirits remained high. The children missed him and the younger ones especially asked after him every day. The girls worked hard with their writing and spelling but Robert would rather climb trees than work in his copybook. William worked diligently with his grandfather and was spending his spare time on a special project. Joseph had pondered briefly what that might be but Millie had ended with her words of love and his thoughts went to her instead.

Now weary but restless he closed his eyes, conjuring up her smiling face, her warm lips. He missed his family but it was Millie's happy voice and soft body that he thought of the most on the lonely nights. He stretched, opened his eyes to the brightness of a cloudless sky and tucked the letter back in his pocket alongside his leather pouch with his lucky rock. It had not brought him much luck at Teetulpa, unless he counted his continuing good health lucky.

After several months, the small glass bottle in his trouser pocket contained only a pitiful amount of gold grains and a few tiny chips. Each time he felt he should give up and return home he found just enough more to raise his hopes again.

During his first month here he had quickly discovered sifting through the dirt with a knife was the best way to uncover gold in the dry conditions at Teetulpa. He'd constructed a simple four-legged structure that loosely resembled a table. Like those around him he dug bucketloads of soil and piled it in heaps close to his tent, then shovelful by shovelful he scraped through the soil with his blade. He went over the sand and gravel on his table several times before he scraped it to the ground.

Joseph had become used to the crude life of the settlement. He kept to himself during the day but at night he sought the company of a few men with claims nearby who had come from the land like he had. There was little to do but drink and share stories about their various homes and families. He was usually so tired he was ready to fall into his swag after a few rounds of the local publican's home-brew but some nights, when he was feeling particularly lonely, he would stay longer until the drink numbed all feeling and he had to stagger his way home.

He'd learned to keep his mouth shut about his work. Hegarty had been right when he'd said there were men here who'd murder their own mother to get their hands on gold or, even if not that desperate, there were others prepared to steal from those who'd been lucky enough to find gold.

Joseph glanced back at the piles of dirt between his tent and his table. He itched to get back to it now. It was like that. You found nothing so you became despondent then a glimmer of gold sent you into more painstaking searching. He was well and truly hooked. Just one more shovel full, just one more sift through. He did it all day, every day, until he lost the light. He pushed the last of the damper into his mouth, washed it down with some cold tea and went back to his table. He still had an hour or more before the sun went down.

He had been there a while, bent over the dirt pile as he scraped his knife through it, his hat the only shade, when muttering started up to his right. The back of Joseph's neck prickled but he didn't look up from his table. He only had one close neighbour since the departure of the young bank clerk on the other side. The poor young man had drunk himself silly and been carted off by two constables.