Dust on the Horizon (55 page)

“I was out walking and came across Jack's horse. I thought it was odd so I removed his gun and came back for mine. I checked on the girls then but there was no sign of Robert when I looked outside. I heard Jack's voice.”

Millie wrenched open the door. “Robert.” Her voice echoed in the still night. “Robert!”

Thomas came to stand behind her. “Perhaps he went back to the quarters. There's a lantern on up there.”

Millie turned back. Fear filled her face. “I left it there. Robert wasn't in his bed. I could see a light from the new house so I left mine on the verandah and went to find him. When I heard Jack coming I was frightened and I sent Robert to find you.” She ran along the path, her hair trailing wildly behind her.

“Wait, Millie. Let me bring some lanterns.” Thomas lit a second wick and carried both outside. He gave one to Millie.

“Robert.” Once more her voice echoed back and Thomas added his calls to the still night.

“Was the new house the last place you saw him?”

Millie nodded. “He must be so frightened. Maybe he's hiding.”

“Let's go there first, then we'll check the quarters and the sheds.”

Millie halted at the huge opening in the front wall of the new building.

“I'll check inside.”

Thomas moved from room to room, holding the lantern up to throw light into every corner. In the cellar he found Millie's shawl and an extinguished lantern. He picked them both up and stepped out of the cellar just as Millie cried out.

“I've found him.”

Thomas could see the glow of her light beyond the far left wall. He picked his way towards it. There was another gap in the outer wall where the kitchen would be. As he reached it Millie cried out again.

Thomas stepped outside to see his grandson stretched out on his side on the ground. Millie was bending over him, saying his name over and over. The light from her lantern illuminated the blood on Robert's head. Thomas bent closer. Robert's eyes were closed.

Thomas sank to his knees beside Millie. She gently shook the little boy's shoulders.

“Robert.”

“Careful, Millie. It looks like he's had a blow to the head.”

“He must have climbed over the wall instead of going round.” Millie's voice came out in a whisper.

Thomas could see Robert's threadbare pyjamas were ripped and he had grazes on his arms and legs. One leg was splayed out at a funny angle. Stones from the partly completed wall littered the ground around him and the one near his head was smeared with blood.

Thomas picked up Robert's small hand in his. It was warm. He squeezed it gently. “Robert?”

The little boy's lips moved and he groaned.

“Oh thank goodness.” Millie bent over the child as his eyes fluttered.

Thomas sat back. “We should take him to Dr Bruehl. It won't be a pleasant journey for the poor young lad; I suspect his leg is broken.”

Millie looked up. Her usually carefree face was lined with worry. “It would be quicker and easier for Robert if I got help from my family.”

“You should be resting too, Millie. You've had a shock.”

“I'm all right.” Her eyes flashed with determination.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Thomas. Jack frightened me, that's all. He grabbed me but I fought back.” She put her hand to her throat where the bruise was deepening. “He had his hand around my neck but I got my fingernails into his cheek.” Her hand dropped to her stomach. “I'm thankful you came when you did. He was angry.”

Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. It appeared he'd arrived before anything worse could happen. “Joseph should know about this. He must come home.”

Robert moaned and they both looked down at him.

“We need to straighten that leg before he wakes.” Thomas ran a hand down his grandson's body.

“I'll get a blanket.” Millie stood up. “We can use it to carry him inside. Then I'll go and get help.” She reached out and put a hand on Thomas's arm. “Please don't tell Joseph. There's nothing that can be done now.”

“We must report Jack's attack.”

“No-one will listen, Thomas.” She squeezed his arm. “I am not badly hurt. Joseph will only be upset and angry and then who knows what he might do. I will tell him when the time is right.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Thomas, please. I don't want any more trouble.” Her big round eyes looked at him beseechingly.

“If Jack Aldridge ever comes this way again …”

“Then we will deal with him.” Her face set with purpose.

“Very well.”

She gave him a tremulous smile and let go of his arm.

Thomas watched as she ran to the house. What a strong woman she was. He glanced up at the night sky. You were right Lizzie, he thought. Millie is a fine mother and companion. I only hope that my silence is the right thing.

Forty-seven

“Damn it Ellis, the ratepayers are a lot of weak-hearted simpletons.” Henry strutted up and down in his sitting room, one hand behind his back and the other clutching a mug of whiskey. He came to a stop in front of the fireplace which was filled with pine cones and adorned with a large red bow. There was no need for a fire in the heat of mid-December. “They are petitioning the governor to have the council taken off the list of councils.”

Prosser harrumphed. “It hasn't even served a full year.”

“It's preposterous.” Henry spluttered into his drink. “Mr Jones went as far as to resign from his position as chairman.”

“I heard there was some kind of petition.”

“There was.” Henry thumped the back of one of Catherine's good chairs. “A group of so-called ratepayers say they can't even procure themselves the base necessities of life let alone find any money for rates, no matter how low we make them.” Once more Henry thumped the chair. “I've had to sell off my land both at Cradock and at Wilson and consolidate my losses. These jolly farmers, common riff-raff some of them, they need to get their priorities right.”

“Pay the council rates before they feed their families?” Prosser pursed his lips in a silly pout.

Henry glared at him. “Well no, that's not what I mean but they do have to be accountable. They are complaining it's the poor seasons that are the reason for their losses, or the grasshoppers or the rabbits or the wild dogs. They're always blaming something. Never think it could be their poor farming practices that are to blame.”

“I've always said they shouldn't be using the land in these parts for growing crops.” Prosser inclined his mug towards Henry to show it was empty.

“So you have, Ellis.” Henry refilled his friend's mug and topped up his own. “I am hopeful tomorrow night's council meeting will sort it all out.”

“Enough of this doom-and-gloom news.” Prosser took a large gulp of Henry's good whiskey. “You were hopeful your trip to Adelaide would bring good news regarding moving that man your wife's family feel beholden to off Smith's Ridge.”

Henry slumped into the chair next to Prosser. He regretted his boastful moment, saying he would find a way to move Jack Aldridge on. The less Prosser knew about that business the better. Henry had gone in search of someone who would do the job for him. Even though Harriet had put up a pretty purse he'd had no luck. “It may take a little longer than I expected.”

“I think it's a bit much. Just because we live so far from Adelaide doesn't mean our standards have to slip. Are you sure he's of Indian descent? People are saying he's of native blood. The man has shown he can manage the place but I won't abide blacks.”

“I will take care of it, Ellis.”

“You'd better. Especially if you want my vote and that of my friends to sort out this debacle with the council.”

“You know I'm always grateful for your help.” Henry took a sip of his whiskey. Prosser could be a pompous man, full of self-importance, but Henry needed him on-side.

There was a knock at the door and Catherine came in. She wore a pale blue dress that flowed softly around her as she walked.

“Catherine, my dear.” Prosser leapt to his feet and took Catherine's hand.

Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink and she lowered her eyelashes.

“Hello, Ellis.”

Henry was so pleased Catherine still kept her pretty looks. She carried more weight these days but she was still a beautiful woman. Prosser's wife had been looking rather haggard the last time she'd come into Henry's shop. Still, she was quite a lot older than Catherine and she did have to live with Prosser. No doubt the loss of two sons weighed heavily as well.

“How is Johanna?”

“Well thank you, my dear.” Prosser patted Catherine's hand.

She smiled and withdrew it. “And Georgina? You must be pleased to have her home again.”

“She's wilful as ever but …” Prosser leaned in closer to Catherine. “I don't know what we'd do without her. She's determined to fill her brothers' boots.”

“You must bring her in for a visit after Christmas.”

“I'm sure she'd be delighted.”

Catherine inclined her head. “I've just come in to say supper is ready. Will you be joining us, Ellis?”

“No, no, thank you Catherine, I must be away.” Prosser turned and nodded in Henry's direction. “Good evening to you, Wiltshire. I will call on you when next I am in Hawker.”

Henry allowed Catherine to see Prosser out. He put a hand to his head. He'd had to sell off his land to keep enough money to pay Jack and then there was all this business with the council. He felt as if he was going crazy trying to keep up with it all.

“Are you ready to dine, Henry?” Catherine had returned and was watching him from the door. She fiddled with the locket around her neck. She was much more jumpy of late. He wondered about that.

“Of course.” He crossed the room and took his wife's arm. “What delights has Mrs Nixon prepared for us this evening?”

“I have prepared our meal.” Catherine's tone was huffy. “I gave Mrs Nixon the afternoon off. Her daughter is sick.”

Henry paused. He much preferred Flora's meals to Catherine's but he could hardly say as much. He placed a kiss on his wife's cheek.

“How delightful, my dear.”

He led Catherine to their dining room. The large table was covered in a white damask cloth and set for the two of them.

“Charles has eaten. He's playing with his trains.” Catherine crossed to the dresser to pour the wine. “He is enjoying the
Treasure Island
book you brought him from Adelaide. He would very much appreciate you sharing another chapter before he goes to bed.”

“Of course.” Henry was very proud of Charles and his achievements. He had worried perhaps the local school wouldn't be good enough but Mr Harry had written Charles a glowing report card. The only minor concern was something about bossing other children but Henry saw that as meaning Charles could stand up for himself.

He waited as Catherine brought his wine. “Are you not joining me, my dear?”

“Not tonight, Henry.” Catherine gave him a quick glance. Her movements were jerky. She placed a goblet of red wine on the cloth in front of his place and gasped as it wobbled. They both tried to save it but the goblet toppled and the red wine spread across the white cloth.

“Oh dear.” Catherine reached for her locket.

“Be calm, Catherine. It was an accident.”

She waved a hand over the pool of red and stood the goblet up again. “That will stain. I must remove the cloth and soak it at once.”

Henry sucked in a breath. “Very well.”

Catherine rolled the fabric from the other end. He lifted the goblet and the utensils and she swept the cloth from underneath.

“I'll bring a fresh one and our supper.” She bustled out of the room, the large cloth gathered together in her arms.

Henry poured himself a fresh goblet of wine and sat in his chair. He ran a hand over the finely polished wood. He was glad they had acquired some fine pieces of furniture before their fortunes reached this current downturn. It was easier to keep up appearances when one had a grand house and good furniture. The sale of the land at Cradock and Wilson was barely enough to cover Jack's wages for much longer. Ellis was right, Henry did need to rid himself of the man.

He took a sip of wine and nearly spat it back all over himself. He gulped it down and leaned forward. There on the lip of the table someone had carved something. Who would do such a thing? He ran his finger over the crude letters etched into his mahogany table then he leaned forward to look closer. JA. He bent even closer and anger surged through him. Who was JA? None of Henry's guests had those initials and none would have the bad manners to do such a thing.

He pushed back in his chair and leapt to his feet almost knocking over his new goblet of wine. Jack Aldridge. He was the only person Henry knew with those initials but how on earth would he have access to Henry's dining table? Had the vile man come creeping in at night while they slept?

Catherine bustled back through the door. She carried the tray to the table, spread serviettes over their places and set out their plates and utensils. “This will do instead of a new cloth. The meal is only mutton and cheese but we have some of Flora's delicious pickles.” She looked back at him. “What is it Henry?”

He flicked his serviette back from the table. It flopped over his plate.

“Henry?”

“Someone has carved their initials in my table.”

“Oh, surely not in the mahogany. Charles wouldn't do such a thing.”

Henry glared at her. “I don't believe our son did this.”

“Where is it?”

He waved his hand at the exposed lip of the table.

Catherine bent down to peer closer. “Oh, it looks like a J and an A.” She straightened and looked back at Henry, her expression puzzled.

“The only JA I know is a man called Jack Aldridge.”