Heart of the Country (23 page)

“Is that when you came to South Australia?”

AJ turned back to him. “I worked my way here. I was never lucky enough to work for someone as generous and wise as my first employer again but I've remembered what he taught me always. An honest wage for an honest day's work, expect loyalty and trust and reap the rewards.” AJ smiled at Thomas. “You'll have your own place one day.”

Thomas shifted in his chair. It was his dream but he was nowhere near achieving it. “I enjoy working for you at Penakie.”

“And I hope you will continue to do so for a while longer yet.” AJ sat forward again, his look businesslike. “We must get on. As we did last year, I am putting up your wage and making funds available to cover extras such as supplies for the native.”

“That would be very helpful.”

“I am also giving you a bonus.”

“You don't have to do that.” Thomas was just pleased to receive a raise in his wage.

“I wouldn't be getting the income I am without you, Thomas. You deserve some extra reward for your work and loyalty.”

He accepted with a nod. AJ was determined and so it would happen. Thomas already knew what he would do with the money. He had hoped to buy a new horse while in Adelaide. Derriere had done the job but he wasn't good on long trips like the ride to Adelaide and back. He and McKenzie's horse would stay on at Penakie for Wick or Gulda to ride and with his bonus, Thomas would select a new mount for himself. And he hoped there'd be some left over to buy a gift for Lizzie.

“There are no other improvements you would like to see?” AJ took another cut of cheese.

“No. The new yards and shearing shed work well and our living arrangements are comfortable enough.”

“I hope to make the journey up to see it all again soon,” AJ said.

“I would like you to see what we've achieved.”

“I have been kept busy by my other properties and I have to admit I enjoy the cooler climate south of Adelaide. The land there almost reminds me of England.”

“Do you think you will go back one day?” Thomas asked.

“No.” AJ's reply was firm. “I'm happy here. What about you?”

“I've no wish to return. This is my home now.” Thomas felt a warmth inside him that wasn't from the food he'd eaten. It was contentment. Even though Penakie didn't belong to him it was home and he was happy to call it so.

AJ stood. “If you've had sufficient we should get on.”

Thomas pushed back his chair. Amazing how he felt so comfortable now with the decisions and the work ahead. He walked out of the hotel into the stiff, salty breeze with a determined stride, looking forward to the day.

Harriet lay still and looked at the fruit of their labour as it was slowly revealed in the early morning light. All around their camp clumps of cleaned wool dried in the bushes and trees. Her back and arms ached and her hands were still stained from the dirty wool even though she'd scrubbed them in hot water using some of her carefully preserved soap.

Septimus had found them a camp by a creek not far from the inn. No sooner had he unhitched the horses than he'd begun to pull several bags of wool from the wagon. Then he proceeded to pluck prickles and little black clumps from the wool. It turned out the black clumps were manure from the sheep and it was her job to wash the wool in the creek. The day was still hot so it was no hardship at first. She wore the men's clothes that she kept for camp life when there was no one to see her and, with the trousers rolled up, she bent to her task. It had been a big job. Her back and arms had grown tired and the water had eventually chilled her through, making her old leg injury ache.

Even though they'd both fallen into bed exhausted, Septimus had felt for her body under the blanket. She'd feigned interest, hoping he'd be quick. He had fallen asleep as soon as he'd finished with her. She had done her usual careful ablutions afterwards, emptying her bladder and washing carefully, as the women who worked for Mabel had done. One of them had explained it was no guarantee against pregnancy, but it had worked so far.

Harriet turned her head slightly. Septimus lay close beside her, still asleep. She slipped from under the blanket. Now she felt the need to wash herself all over. The smell of the dirty wool reminded her too much of Pig Boy. Even though nearly two years had passed it was a memory she had not managed to erase.

She dipped quickly in the water, dried herself and pulled on her clothes. She ran her hands down the folds of the dress that Septimus had bought her most recently. It was a much lighter fabric than the previous one and she liked the soft grey colour.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

Harriet gasped. She spun quickly to see a man standing a little further along the creek. He wore a battered hat, a grubby shirt and baggy pants held up with a piece of rope.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” he said. He cast his eyes about and took a step towards her.

Harriet nodded sideways to the path she'd taken through the bush. “I'm not alone,” she said. “My husband is just up there.”

“Is that so?” the man said. “Well I like to be sociable. The name's Jed Burch. I'm on my way to Burra. See if I can get some work there.”

“It's a busy place,” Harriet said.

“You been there?” The man had moved closer and his eyes lit up with interest.

“A long time ago.” Harriet started to walk and he followed her.

“Maybe your husband can tell me more about it.”

Fresh smoke wafted from the fire and swirled around them. Septimus must be up, Harriet thought with relief.

“I've run out of tea,” Burch said from behind her. “Don't s'pose you could spare a bit, could ya?”

Septimus was standing beside the wagon. He was dressed and had one arm under the canvas cover. The wool had already been packed in the bags. Harriet saw the purse of his lips as he looked over her shoulder at the man following her.

“Whitby!” Burch uttered. “Is this mongrel your husband?”

Harriet hurried away from both men to stand on the other side of the fire. Septimus neither moved nor spoke but he kept his gaze locked on the man.

“I wondered if I'd ever get the chance to catch up with you again and here you are.” There was no mistaking Burch's sinister tone.

“Mr Burch,” Septimus said. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”

“Pleasure!” Burch spat and pulled his hat from his head to reveal a completely bald scalp dotted with red blotches. “This is not a pleasure, Whitby. I paid you most of my money for those fancy Royal Remedy pills of yours and instead of restoring my hair, I've lost the lot.”

“The pills have worked well on others.” Septimus moved his arm slightly under the canvas.

“They made me sick. Doctor said if I hadn't stopped taking them I might have died.”

“There must have been some other cause. My pills have never –”

“Liar.” Burch took a step towards Septimus. “I want my money back.”

“I no longer have your money, Mr Burch. I sold you the pills in good faith.”

Harriet watched Burch flick his eyes around their camp and saw him take in their big wagon with two horses, the pots and pans of their camp kitchen, the table and chairs they'd taken out in order to rearrange the wool bags and finally the comfortable bedroll with extra its padding and proper pillows.

“Looks like you're doing all right to me.” He looked from Septimus to Harriet and she could see the wildness in his eyes. Suddenly he leaped around the fire and grabbed her. At the same time she heard Septimus shout. She looked up to see him pointing the firearm at Burch.

Burch growled, wrapped his arm tighter around her and pulled her in front of him. The scowl on Septimus's face deepened but he didn't change the direction of the firearm.

“No need to get nasty,” Burch said. “This fancy wife of yours is well decked out and she smells so nice.” Harriet shuddered as she felt the vile man nuzzle the back of her neck. “Perhaps you could share her and we could call it quits.”

To Harriet's horror, Septimus lowered his firearm and shrugged his shoulders.

“She's not my wife. If that's all you want, take her. I've got work to do, but you'd better be done when I get back.”

Harriet felt as if a knife had stabbed her heart. Did Septimus really not think her worth saving?

“My mate might like a piece too,” Burch said, keeping Harriet between him and Septimus.

“Your mate?” Septimus said as if he was considering it.

Harriet wanted to scream in protest but she made no sound. To try to resist might earn her the same treatment as Pig Boy had dealt.

“He's taken his horse to the inn for food. We've only got the one between us.”

“I've got business at the inn myself.” Septimus spoke as if he was chatting to a guest over a cup of tea. “I plan to convince the innkeeper to let me cart in some of his supplies.”

Burch held Harriet so tightly she could barely breathe. Her head was beginning to spin.

“It will take me some time.” Septimus twisted his lips into a smile and he winked.

Harriet couldn't believe he was leaving her to this man's mercies – not to mention his friend's.

Septimus limped away in the direction of the inn. Harriet's mind was so clouded with fear it took her a moment to register the limp. Just before he disappeared into the bush she noticed he still had the firearm held down the length of his body. She relaxed in Burch's arms, hoping her distraction would take his eyes off Septimus.

Burch spun her around. With one hand gripping her arm, he used the other to fumble with her dress. Harriet tried to keep her breathing calm. Septimus had already been to see the innkeeper yesterday. He'd had no luck convincing him to allow them to cart his supplies. There were plenty of teamsters passing through who did the job for a good price. Was it his way of telling her he wasn't really deserting her?

Burch had his full attention on Harriet but he lifted his head at a noise behind him in the bush. He looked around then back at Harriet. His face was twisted in a mixture of lust and suspicion.

“I think we'll go to my camp,” he said. “It's not far.”

He took her by the wrist and dragged her along with him. Harriet glanced from side to side, hoping Septimus would appear, but he didn't. Perhaps he really had deserted her. She was too frightened to struggle. Burch was strong and she feared a belt from his hand. She would need all her wits about her if she were to escape safely.

They followed the creek for a distance until they came to a small clearing in the bush. Harriet could see the remains of a fire with a few stones around it and some flattened patches of grass.

Burch threw off his hat and shoved her against a tree, pinning her with one hand while he grappled with the rope at his waist. There was no sign of Septimus. Harriet's only hope was to save herself. If she could get away from Burch she could hide in the bush. While he was distracted trying to undo his pants, she brought her knee up swiftly into his groin and shoved with all her strength.

Burch yelled in pain. Harriet gasped as the end of a firearm swung down and hit him on the head. Septimus stepped from the bush beside her. Burch fell to the ground, striking his head on one of the rocks at the edge of his campfire. He sprawled, face down in the dirt. Harriet stared at him. He made no movement or sound.

Septimus poked Burch with his foot. When the man didn't move, Septimus bent over him and gave him a closer inspection.

Harriet put her hands to her face. “Is he dead?” she whispered.

“I wouldn't have thought your shove or my strike would kill him but perhaps the rock.”

Harriet stared at the horrid spectacle at her feet. Burch's mottled head lay in the dirt. Beside it was a rock with a smear of vivid red blood on its white surface.

She shivered at the thought of the grotesque man's hands on her.

“What is it about you, Harriet? You seem to attract bad men.”

She glared at Septimus. He'd never asked how she'd come to be beaten up when she'd first crawled into his wagon. She'd never spoken of it but now it was as fresh and raw as if it had just happened. “You were going to let him have me.”

Septimus grabbed her arm and pulled her close. She winced as his fingers dug into her skin. His face was so close to hers she could see the fine twitch of his taut cheek muscles. His grey eyes were cold with rage.

“No one else will ever have you,” he hissed. “If another man ever used you, I would give you to him. You would be nothing to me.”

Harriet felt a shudder go through her. Septimus dropped her wrist as quickly as he'd snatched it up. He glanced around then smiled at her. Harriet felt more terror at that smile than at his cold words. “I knew you were safe enough for the moment.” He waved an arm to the trees. “I was checking around to see where his friend was. There are signs of a horse so he must have gone to the inn as Burch said. We need to be gone before he gets back.”

Harriet continued to stare at him. “A man's dead. We can't leave him like a piece of meat.”

She shuddered as Septimus gripped her arm again. He put his face close to hers. “Listen to me, Harriet. He tripped and fell. You can stay if you want but I'm not going back …” Septimus pulled himself up and looked around. “I'm not going to be accused of murder. There's nothing we can do for him now.”

Harriet looked down at the body on the ground. The morning was warming up. Flies crawled over his face, already seeking the blood.

“This was an unfortunate accident, Harriet.” Septimus put pressure on her arm and propelled her away. “You go and finish packing the wagon. I'll make sure everything is … tidy here.”

Harriet hesitated. She had detested Burch for what he'd planned to do but she hadn't wished him dead. However, had he violated her, she might as well have been dead. Septimus would have abandoned her: of that she had no doubt.