Dust on the Horizon (51 page)

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Authors: Tricia Stringer

BOOK: Dust on the Horizon
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“Have you found lots of gold, Father?” Robert asked the question William had longed to ask but hadn't felt able to.

Joseph put down the spoon he'd been using to eat his porridge. He gripped his hands in front of him as if he was going to say his prayers and looked at each of them in turn.

“I know I've been gone a long time and I'm very sorry.”

“Is it fun at the goldfields?” Esther bounced up and down on her seat. “Is there lots of gold?”

“No, not lots, but there are many men trying to search for it.”

Joseph reached into the pocket of the clean shirt Millie had found for him and pulled out a small glass bottle. He handed it to William.

William held the top in his fingers and peered closely. There were tiny chips of rock and grains that sparkled in the light now streaming through the window.

“Where are the big rocks?” Robert's face creased in a frown.

“I haven't found any nuggets.” Joseph grimaced. “I had to sort a lot of dirt and rocks to find this much.”

“Let me see.” Esther leaned forward.

Joseph put out a restraining arm to stop her climbing right onto the table. “William will pass it around.”

“It doesn't seem very much, Father.” William couldn't help but feel disappointed. Like Robert he had imagined large rocks of glittering gold, or at least a pouch full. The little bottle didn't seem much for his father to bring home after all this time away.

“Are you staying here with us now?” This time it was Esther who asked the question they all wanted to know the answer to.

William saw the concerned look his father gave Millie and his heart sank.

“I will stay home for a while.” Joseph looked at each of the children and his gaze stopped at William. “I have to go back.”

The other children groaned and cried out, even Violet. Millie put an arm around her shoulders and cuddled her close.

Joseph reached out a hand to Esther who was sitting on his other side. “I know it's been a difficult time for you all but I need you to continue to be strong. I'm working with friends and they are minding my lease.” He directed his words to Millie who studied him gravely. “Just before I left we found a vein of rock with some larger chips of gold in it. If I find some more like that we will have enough money to help us get back on our feet once the drought is over.”

“Will it ever be over, Father?” Violet's eyes were round with worry.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

William wondered at his father's reply. They had had little rain for so long he found it hard to remember a time when water flowed freely in Wildu Creek and there was thick grass and thousands of sheep.

“We will have money to finish the new house.” Joseph smiled at Millie.

Her lips turned up but William could see it was not her usual smile that made her eyes sparkle.

“Why do we need a new house, Father?” Esther put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands.

“It will be a place of our own. A special house just for us.”

“But Grandfather would be all alone.” Violet's eyes remained dry but her chin wobbled.

“Perhaps he'd like to live in the new house,” Joseph said. “There will be lots of room.”

“We don't need to worry for now.” Millie let Violet go and gave her back a gentle rub. “It will take a long time to finish the house. Your grandfather might feel much better by then.”

“Shall I go and fetch him for breakfast?” Esther jumped to her feet, bumping the table.

“No.” Joseph stood and lifted his filthy old hat from the back of his chair. “I will go.” He gripped Millie's hand and the look between them was full of love. William was relieved. He'd wondered with his father being away so long if he might have somehow forgotten about Millie. William had seen how that Jack Aldridge came calling more and more often and how he tried to be alone with Millie. They hadn't spoken about it but she'd been worried last time. William knew if he'd gone with Uncle Timothy to inspect the fences that day she would have been all alone. He should warn his father but what would he say? Jack hadn't really done anything wrong except be neighbourly.

“William.” Joseph turned back. “Can you let Timothy know that I'm back? I should talk to him about the state of the property once I've spoken with my father. I expect you will be there too, son.”

A sense of pride swept through William. “Yes, Father.”

Forty-three

Thomas sat perfectly still. He didn't see the contrasting colours of the vivid green bush sprouting from the red and brown of the rocks that spread down the ridge and onto the plain. The tall gums that followed the meandering trail of Wildu Creek were a stark contrast to the faded colours of dry grass and dirt on the plain, but his gaze was on the freshly turned earth with its covering of rocks.

With the sun now higher in the sky the birds were not so noisy although two young magpies hopped back and forth, their beaks spearing the ground for some delicious morsel. One hopped close, tipped its head and looked his way with one bright eye. Thomas smiled. The black-and-white birds had been amongst his first friends all those years ago when he'd come to the country alone after arriving in Adelaide as a green young Englishman.

There was a soft rustle of movement in a bush nearby and the chirrups of the grasshoppers that were in plague proportions on the plains, but apart from that it was only him on the hill with his girls. In his hand he held a bunch of wattle sprigs. Lizzie had always favoured the small, round yellow flowers. She rarely had them in the house, their perfume was so strong, but they reminded her of their wedding. Each year she picked some and asked Thomas to dance with her to mark their anniversary.

He shook his head. That had been almost forty years ago.

“Where did the time go Lizzie?” he murmured. “So much has happened since you made me the happiest man alive by becoming my wife and now you've left me.”

He glanced at the rough pine cross he'd made years ago, now painted white with his firstborn's name, Annie, carved into it. Then there was another little grave for the baby girl who had come too early and they hadn't named. They'd lost two little girls and now, lying in the earth beside them, was their mother.

The ache that burned constantly inside his chest since his wife had become gravely ill gnawed deeper as his gaze swept over the fresh grave and came to rest on the cross.
Lizzie Baker
had been painted neatly in black letters by Violet who was so clever with fine jobs like that.

Thomas reached out and laid the brightly coloured twigs of wattle at the base of the cross.

“I wasn't ready for you to leave me, my love.”

A rock skittered nearby accompanied by a footfall. Thomas looked around to see Joseph climbing the hill towards him. It warmed Thomas's heart to see his son and also that he carried some sprigs of wattle he would have collected on his way up the hill. Thomas smiled at the cross. “Your boy has come home, Lizzie.” He stood and waited for their son to arrive.

Joseph came to a stop at the base of the grave. He removed his hat and gripped it tightly in his hands with the wattle, staring at the mound of dirt and rocks as if he could see right through it. He lifted his gaze to his father. Thomas could see the raw grief on his face.

“It's good to see you, son.”

“I am so sorry, Father.”

Thomas nodded and watched Joseph's mouth twist and his jaw harden as he struggled with his emotions. He waited a moment then took the few short steps between them and opened his arms. The two of them hugged, drawing on each other for strength. Thomas clapped his son's back firmly then stepped back, his hands resting on Joseph's shoulders.

Joseph wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I wish I was here before … to see her.”

“She knew you were coming but she had grown so weak. It was too hard for her to wait.”

Joseph bent and placed the wattle next to the branches already lying there.

“Was there nothing that could be done?”

Thomas returned to the rock beside the graves he used as a seat. “Everyone tried. Millie was wonderful. She hardly left your mother's side and she brewed some native remedies but the disease had already taken a hold. Dr Bruehl said your mother's chest was weak and there was nothing else that could have been done.”

“How do you go on, Father?”

Thomas looked at the sorrow etched in his son's face and blocked his own feelings. “That's something I'm grateful to your mother for. When your older sister Annie died I sunk into despair. I wanted Lizzie to go back to her parents while I built up Wildu Creek but she would have none of it. She said we had to keep going or we were dishonouring Annie. We had to work for the children and grandchildren we hadn't had yet. Now look at our family.” Thomas turned his eyes to the vista in front of him. “When we buried Annie your mother made me look at this.” He swept his arm out in a wide arc. “Look up, Thomas, she said. And I cast my gaze across the land. You must look up too, Joseph. Wildu Creek is our home. Where else would we go, what else would we do?”

Thomas watched his son take in the view that was partly obscured by trees but allowed glimpses of the valley and plains below, the tree-lined creek and the distant mountains. Then Joseph's lips turned up in a grin.

“Remember when I thought Wildu Creek was the name you'd made up –‘will do'? I thought you'd meant this will do.”


Wildu
is eagle in Gulda's language but ‘this will do' is correct as well. Where else would we live, Joseph? This is our home.”

Joseph sucked in a deep breath and found himself a place to sit on the other side of Lizzie's grave. He pushed his hat back on his head, if you could still call it a hat. It was dark with grime and had several holes in the crown.

“You've lost weight, Joseph. How has it been at the goldfields?”

“I am managing.”

“You've been away a long time.”

“I had planned to come home earlier.”

“It must have been worth staying.” Thomas was careful with his words. He could tell Joseph was burdened by guilt at not being home with his family.

Joseph glanced at Lizzie's cross again.

Thomas gave him an encouraging smile. “Your mother would want to hear all about it. You know what she was like.” He could see her in his mind's eye. Sitting Joseph down to a big meal and firing several questions at a time, barely waiting for the answers before she asked more.

Joseph rested his hands on his knees. “It's been hell.”

Thomas frowned. “But your letters? Millie read them to us. They were full of hope.”

“If I'd written the truth Millie and mother would have come and demanded I return home.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows and nodded. “So why didn't you come back? You know we would have welcomed you with open arms.”

“I know but I have actually been finding gold. It's the conditions and the life I don't enjoy.”

“You're used to hardship. We don't exactly live a high life here.”

Joseph dug the heel of his boot into the dry ground. “Wildu Creek is a kingdom in comparison to life at Teetulpa.”

“So you're not going back? Millie and the children will be—”

“I have to go back.”

Once more Thomas raised his eyebrows.

“I did something stupid, Father.” Joseph kept worrying at the hole with his heel. “I had some gold and I lost it.”

Thomas didn't speak. Instead he allowed his son time. It was never easy to admit your mistakes.

Joseph looked up. “There are men from all walks of life on the goldfields. I found a group that were like me, all from the land, good men but desperate for gold to save their properties. We would meet up most nights and have a few drinks around one of the campfires.” Joseph shook his head slowly. “There's little else to do. I had found some gold before last Christmas and had planned to come home with gifts and money lining my pockets. One night I was feeling sorry for myself. I missed you all, I longed for Millie and I drank too much. Someone knocked me out and stole my gold.”

Thomas kept his eyes on the bright gold balls of wattle. Do you hear that Lizzie? You were always worried about Joseph's drinking.

“I had to stay then.” Joseph went on, relief in his voice as if he'd wanted to tell someone. “I had to find more gold. I couldn't come home empty-handed.”

Strong-willed like you too, Lizzie. Thomas maintained the conversation with his dead wife in his head but remained outwardly silent.

“A man I met when I first travelled to Teetulpa has come back and staked his claim beside mine. He's found gold before and he thinks we have a good vein running through our claims. It was just starting to show some promise when I got the telegram about …” Joseph glanced at the grave. “About Mother.”

Thomas waited until the silence had stretched out between them before he spoke. “You must do what you think is best, Joseph. Your family are safe here and I appreciate their looking after me.” Thomas leaned forward and waited until Joseph lifted his gaze to meet his. “I was deceived by Henry Wiltshire's father when I first came to South Australia and I let it eat away at me but your mother was so wise. We mustn't look back, she said. She was so brave.”

A frown crossed Joseph's brow. “You're the bravest man I know, Father. Look at all that's happened and all that you've achieved.”

Once more the pain deepened in Thomas's chest and tears that he'd thought had all been shed brimmed in his eyes. His gaze swept Lizzie's grave. “She made me brave.” Thomas gasped as the sadness threatened to engulf him again like it had on the first days after Lizzie's death. He had to be strong, for his family, for Lizzie's memory.

Hands gripped his shoulders. Joseph had come to stand behind him. His son understood the pain of losing the person you loved more than life itself.

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