Mary Brock Jones (4 page)

“As to your continuing your journey today, I have been thinking on that,” said John slowly. Philip paused and Nessa sat down again in hope. “Mr Ward, have you ever actually panned for gold before?”

“No.” Phillip looked absurdly young. “But I’m sure I’ll pick it up soon enough.”

“Without a doubt,” agreed John. “But there is still time wasted while you learn the trick of the thing. Now, there’s a party of miners working the banks of the Molyneux, just over the ridge, just over that near ridge. Old Joe is in charge. A miner come out from the California fields and well versed in searching for gold in rivers. I’ve done him a favour or two in the past, and I daresay he would be happy enough to return it. What do you say we walk on over there soon and you can spend the day working with him?”

Philip looked torn, one part of him able to see the wisdom in John’s plan, the other eager to be on their way to what he always termed ‘the goldfields proper’—by which, Nessa knew, he meant the rich fields of the Arrow and Shotover rivers they had heard about, far inland from here. Fabulous tales of wealth had spread of the finds made there, and Philip meant to be part of them. Still, it was true he knew nothing of the reality of panning.

“But my sister, sir? It looks to be a rough track for her.”

John managed to keep his mouth closed on that, but only just. Did the boy have no idea what awaited his sister farther inland?

“My shepherd’s wife, Mrs Cooper, would be only too pleased to have the company of another woman for the day. She likes nothing better than to pass on what she has learned about making do in this rough place.”

The boy wasn’t yet convinced.

“Please, Philip. Mr Reid has a point. And I would very much like to spend time with a woman used to these parts before we venture farther inland.”

She spoke softly, letting Philip act as the decider, but her words clinched it. John hid his triumph. Both goals achieved. Another day of her company and a chance to help keep her safe. It was harsh, the upland country, and there were few women there he would want any sister of his mixing with.

As for Miss Nessa Ward, if he could not go with her, could not protect her as every part of him ached to do, he could at least ensure she was armed with the knowledge she would need.

Nessa looked at their host, considering. The man had a genial smile on his face, politely waiting for Philip to be ready to leave. Yet she could not help feeling that Mr John Reid was very pleased with himself right now. She ought to be wondering did it bode ill for them. It should have worried her, wondering what it forebode. But somehow she felt safe. Maybe it was the wink he gave her from behind her brother’s back as they both followed Philip out the door.

Fortunately, Philip was not looking at her but had turned back to their now quite bland-faced host. He was having second thoughts; she knew him too well to miss the signs. But their host wasn’t to be easily thwarted.

“Shall we walk Miss Ward down to Mrs Cooper’s together, once you are ready to leave? That way you can assure yourself of her safety before we go.”

What could Philip say to that but yes? He still took an inordinate amount of time saddling up their horse, but at last they were ready. The two men walked beside her, one on either side like a ceremonial guard and trailing their horses behind them.

It was only a few minutes across and down the farm track to the Coopers’ house. It was larger than Mr Reid’s, with the look of rooms added on to the back as the family’s needs grew, but to Nessa’s eye, it did not possess the solid air of John Reid’s cottage. The building materials were the same, the construction similar. But John’s cottage spoke to her in a way this house did not, said loudly and clearly “Welcome Nessa. Sanctuary is here.”

A cheery call interrupted the dangerous thought, and a woman bustled round the corner of the house. She was much the same height as Nessa, but showed the effects of years of childbearing and cooking in her cheerfully rounded frame. She greeted John with a vigorous hug then turned her beaming face to the newcomers.

“Well, now, and who do we have here?”

“Ada, let me present Miss Nessa Ward and her brother, Mr Philip Ward. Travellers on the way to the fields who have seen fit to break their journey and give us the pleasure of their company this day.”

“Now, that’s a fine thing. It’s always good to meet newcomers and hear what’s going on outside this valley. Welcome, welcome.”

“I’m just on my way to introduce Philip to old Joe down at the Molyneux,” broke in John, forestalling what threatened to be a long and effective interrogation. He explained why, asking if she would let Miss Ward stay for the day and see some of the ways of the colony housewife.

“With the greatest pleasure. My oldest, Jessie, she’s heard all my tips and stories so often I dare not say them again. The looks she gives me. What a treat to be able to tell them all to such a pretty young lady as yourself, Miss Ward. Don’t worry. By the time you leave here, there will be nothing you don’t know about how to manage in this blighted country. Not that I don’t love it, mind. There’s something about it that gets into your heart. But there, don’t mind me. Come in, come in, and you gentlemen can just get on your way and leave Miss Ward to me. Don’t you worry, young man,” she added to Philip. “She’ll be as safe with me as if your own Ma was here with her. Now, be off with you.”

Nessa found herself hustled into the cosy cottage, throwing a laughing farewell to Philip and Mr Reid, even as Mrs Cooper was already giving her a recipe for a tonic against sunburn. “For it’s fierce hot, that sun, in our summer here!”

An hour later, her head buzzing with recipes and good advice, Nessa laughingly admitted defeat.

“Please, have you some paper to let me write all this down. You know so much and, until now, I never realised I knew so little.”

“My old tongue’s been running on something wicked, you mean,” chuckled Ada, as she insisted Nessa call her. “Can’t say I’ve ever written anything down. Oh, I can scribe my letters, but it takes a fearful long time so I’ve always just kept everything in my head. Chock full it is of all sorts of nonsense.

“And a great deal of wisdom.”

“Well, thank you, lass. Now, there was some old, brown wrapping paper here somewhere, and a bit of pencil the children use when Mr Reid be a-teaching them their letters. For it’s a different world they’ll grow into, he says to us often enough. I don’t like to bother him, busy and all as he is, but Master Reid, he’s like that, as you’ll find. Always looking out for those he’s taken under his care. Seems you and your brother be some of those,” she added, her brown eyes twinkling.

Nessa blushed, but immediately brushed away the idea. Mr John Reid was a truly hospitable gentleman. She was very grateful for his help, especially as she saw the sheets of invaluable advice piling up, but tomorrow they would be gone.

Still, she was surprised some time later to feel a shadow darken the door and a now familiar voice calling out to Ada, still merrily reciting recipes as she stirred a cabbage relish over the fire and saying, “Mind how you go,” to the small boy racing through the kitchen.

“I’ve come to take your guest away for a spell, Ada. Her head must be buzzing. Miss Ward, would you care to take a walk with me. I’ve brought lunch.”

He held up a satchel with the air of one producing a fabulous treasure. The neck of a stoneware bottle poked out the top and the sides bulged. She could not stop the smile that sprang to her lips. His mood must have been infectious, as Mrs Cooper was also grinning idiotically. In no time at all, Nessa was out the door and walking in hurried steps to keep up with the long legged strides of her companion.

“Whatever must Mrs Cooper think of me? To desert her so suddenly after all her kindness of this morning!”

“Don’t worry about Ada. She looked to be more than pleased at developments.”

She looked up, puzzled, but just then stumbled over a stone in her haste and his words were forgotten as his strong arm caught her, gently setting her straight again. After that, he slowed his pace and held her arm securely tucked in his. Only to keep her from further stumbles, she told herself, and for some reason did not object to such familiarity. She did feel very safe in his care, and refused to consider why.

“Where are we going?” she ventured at one point.

“Wait and see.”

Finally, they pulled themselves up the slope and he handed her up onto a large slab of rock. She sat, legs dangling over the edge like some carefree schoolgirl on the warm, flat seat nature had provided, with the sun shining warm on her face. Thank goodness for the hat Mrs Cooper had plopped on her head in that hurried departure. She could see now why he had brought her here.

Before her, the valley lay spread out in all its summer splendour. Brown grasses danced in the light breezes, sheep grazed here and there and, lower down, she could see his home and a sprinkling of other buildings.

“That’s Mrs Cooper’s house, but whose are the others?”

“Only a couple are homes. The one to the left is a hut for the three single cadets, and the other buildings are the woolshed, store shed and the stables over there. The funny little cubby down below is the benighted place in which I spent my first season.”

She looked, and couldn’t help but laugh. “However did you manage to squeeze in to it?”

“With great difficulty. There is a permanent bump on my head from hitting the doorway.”

She looked up at the line of his forehead, seeing it smooth and marked only by the strong brush of hair falling forward. Then realised she was staring. There was a twinkle in his eye, and something else. Something she very much longed to answer.

No, it was her imagination. She ducked her head, and turned round to the saddlebag he had set on the rock behind them.

“What have you in here?” she asked, rather too brightly.

Was that disappointment or amusement in his face as she turned away? Whatever, it could be no business of hers. They must be on their way tomorrow. Philip and her, alone as always.

But there was still today to enjoy. There was no harm in that, surely. She took the lid off the billy and began pulling out the contents in delight. Wrapped in clean linen lay thick slices of new-made bread holding chunks of juicy lamb with fresh lettuce and tomato, two slices of creamy yellow Madeira cake and, best of all, crisp, crunchy apples.

“Where did you get these?” she breathed.

“The packers bring them up from Dunedin for me. My own trees are another year or two away yet. But the rest is produced right here. The veggie plot lies below the house, sheltered by that rock wall.”

She followed the direction of his pointing finger.

“A natural spring rises above it. That garden never dries out. I’ll take you down and show you later. As for the bottle—plain water I fear, but as fresh and clean as you can get.”

Would this man never stop surprising her?

Lunch was the most relaxed meal she remembered eating in a long time. Too long a time. Afterwards, she lay back on the rock, feeling the sun on her face and the breeze playing in her hair. By turning her head just a fraction, she could see the slopes rising above her, coated in the long, tussock grasses of this region. There were other plants, too. Plants she had noticed on their trip inland but not yet had the leisure to examine. Her hands twitched, reaching for a pencil or brush to capture these unknown delights. A clump of tussock reached up close beside her. Her fingers stretched out and stroked the moving strands.

From the distance, the grasses had looked to be the brown of late summer drying straw—golden brown and uniform in shade. Now, this close, she could see there was green and pale, almost clear yellow in the stalks, and as the sun shone through the clumps, there was a glowing translucence shimmering through the ever moving stems.

“What are you doing?”

She started. He was looking at her abruptly stilled hand. Then the chuckle that accompanied the words reassured her. She still felt the heat of a blush stain her cheeks.

“An old habit. I like to sketch any new plants I come across. A silly hobby from childhood. Usually, I carry my paints and pens with me, but if not, and I see a plant that intrigues me, my hand insists on trying to capture the look of it.”

“An old clump of grass is so fascinating?”

“But your grasses are so beautiful. See how the light shines through them. And the colours! If I could only show that on paper.”

She was pointing to the grass clump beside her but that was not where he was looking.

“Yes, very beautiful,” he murmured.

The world suddenly became very still. His fingers had lightly taken hers as his eyes slowly tracked over her face, and down, down. What he saw to bring the deep gleam to his eye, she could not imagine. Her simple blouse and skirt were serviceable rather than fashionable. Nor was her corset laced tightly to emphasise a tiny waist. It was too uncomfortable for daily work, and she was slender enough that she had never felt the need for tight lacing. But she did not compare with the pages of the fashion journals, she had always known that.

Though she had rarely had the benefit of a full mirror. How did others see her? How did men?

Right now, John Reid was looking at her in a way that made her wonder at the answer to that question for the first time in years. Very well, said his eyes if she was not mistaken. Nor did that frighten her. She certainly knew that Mr John Reid appeared very fine to her own eye, with his tall solid frame and firm strong face that shouted ‘trust me’ so loudly to her, she thought the whole world must hear.

The pity was she must not listen. Not while Philip still needed her.

Then she thought no more, as his head bent towards her and his lips took possession of hers. Firm, warm and dry, it was a kiss that teased at unknown sensations. Her heart beat and heat swelled within her as his hands came up to cradle her face. A moment in time. So precious.

Then he stopped, his lips still on hers as if reluctant to part before he leaned back. A half rueful smile lurked in his eye.

“I’m sorry if I’ve shocked you, but I couldn’t resist any longer. And you are here for such a short time.” His fingers traced the lines of her chin and nose, and cheeks. “Are you sure you cannot stay longer? Mrs Cooper would be only too pleased to put you up.”