The Horse Thief

TEA COOPER

www.escapepublishing.com.au

Tea Cooper is an Australian author of historical and contemporary fiction. In a past life she was a teacher, a journalist and a farmer. These days she haunts museums and indulges her passion for storytelling.

To Katy,

the little girl who loved ‘the horses' and

the beautiful woman who always picks the Cup winner!

All my love, always.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Epilogue

Historical Note

Acknowledgements

One

August 1865

The Hunter, New South Wales

Bold black handwriting sprawled across the envelope:

The flourish beneath the writing stopped at a small spot of ink as if the author had prevaricated then come to a sudden decision.

‘Off you go.' India Kilhampton clutched the letter and dropped a penny into the young boy's hand. She tore open the envelope before he'd even turned to leave. Her fingers trembled as she extracted the paper and unfolded it.

‘Peggy! Peggy!' Grasping her skirts in one hand she flew across the flagstone courtyard, the letter held high above her head. ‘I have a response.' Skidding to a halt on the threshold of the kitchen, she brandished the letter under her housekeeper's nose.

A sceptical look flashed across Peggy's round, pink face. ‘That's mighty fine news.'

‘I never believed we'd hear from anyone.' She tapped the envelope against her lips, relishing the scent of ink and new prospects. ‘I placed the advertisement over a month ago.'

‘What does it say?'

She glanced at the paper again, elation and tension blurring the words. ‘Not as much as I hoped. His name is Jim Mawgan and he'll be in the area during the week of fourteenth of August and will …'

So much depended on this advertisement. Twelve months to prove a point and perform a miracle. The fourteenth of August … the knot in her stomach tightened. ‘Wasn't that yesterday?' Too late. The date had passed. Why hadn't he turned up? She slumped down at the kitchen table. ‘Maybe he changed his mind.'

A cloud of white flour settled over India's precious letter as Peggy dusted her hands. ‘Calm down. Read me the letter.'

Shaking the paper clean India cleared her throat and adopted her most businesslike tone. It was one she intended to practise, and use, if she ever got the chance.

‘There you are.' Peggy's rolling pin thumped the table. ‘You're supposed to be the educated one. The
week
of the fourteenth of August means anytime during the week. Today's Monday. It could be any day until the weekend.'

The simple script floated in front of India's eyes, the neat lines merging and drifting. ‘Oh, Peggy, I think you're right. I hope so.' It wasn't too late, he hadn't changed his mind, he just hadn't arrived yet. Somewhere in her chest a bubble of elation burst. Unable to stay still a moment longer she leapt to her feet and spun around and around, clasping the precious letter tight.

‘Stop cavorting and carrying on. Come and sit down while I finish these scones.'

More from habit than agreement India plopped down again at the scrubbed pine table. Neat circles of dough fell from Peggy's hands and lined up like soldiers on parade. India's thoughts were less cooperative. It was such an outside chance. Some might call her idea reckless and foolish. No-one advertised for a stud master. There was no point. No reputable stud parted with the one man who knew all their secrets. No-one would apply for the job. It simply wasn't done.
Well!
She sat back and indulged in a smug smile. She'd done it.

‘Are you going to tell your father?'

As usual, Peggy discovered the hair in the icing.

Telling Papa wasn't necessary. After all, he might not even be in Sydney. He could be anywhere. Sailing the seven seas, trading his goods, anything to keep him away from Helligen. She chewed on her lip. ‘No. Not yet. He agreed in principle. I'll wait and see if the man can do the job before I let Papa know. And anyway, he agreed matters were in my hands for twelve months.'

With a long-suffering sigh Peggy swung the oven door open. ‘Morning tea. Who's here today?'

The smell of freshly baked scones compensated for Peggy's lack of enthusiasm. India knew her plan would work—she didn't need Peggy's approval. ‘Only Fred, Jilly in the scullery, and the men working on the back fences with Tom Bludge. I'm going to tell them it's their last day today. I'll just keep Fred and Jilly on until I discover what this new man is like.'

‘Don't get your hopes up. You advertised for a stud master not a labourer. He won't be sweating it out in the paddocks. He'll have other things on his mind.' The corners of Peggy's mouth twitched and her eyes twinkled as she let out a loud chortle.

India had lived most of her life on Helligen Stud and she had no doubt about the direction the housekeeper's thoughts had taken. ‘Peggy!'

‘Well, I don't know. Putting an advertisement in the paper for a man to do your breeding.' She slammed the oven door. ‘Hardly ladylike.'

‘Not
my
breeding.' India laughed and pushed the chair back. She stretched her legs under the table and wiggled her feet. ‘I can't wait. It'll breathe new life into the place having some foals around again. I've missed the rhythm of the seasons so much. I'm never going back to Sydney or Melbourne again.' She lifted her hands and pulled her heavy hair off the nape of her neck. ‘Except to race Helligen's first champion in the Melbourne Cup.'

‘And will you be taking your sister?' Peggy's caterpillar eyebrows twitched.

Violet! Heaven forbid. There'd be no chance of leaving without her. She'd made the most awful fuss about returning home to Helligen. ‘She'll do as she's told. Until she marries she has to do as Papa says, and right now I'm in charge so she'll have to learn to live with it.'

‘Those are brave words, my girl.'

India jumped to her feet. ‘I feel brave, audacious and adventurous.' For too long she'd plotted and schemed, wondering how to get things moving. ‘It's a new beginning for Helligen—for all of us.'

Two

Heat radiated from the dry bush, carrying a pungent blend of eucalyptus and the almond scent of wattle flowers. And on the rising breeze, the promise of rain. A long overdue promise. The ground crackled beneath the stallion's hooves and puffs of sandy dirt billowed with every step.

Jim Mawgan ran his tongue over his parched lips as he searched the track. The boundary of the property couldn't be much further. According to his father a change in the terrain would mark his arrival. In the old days the fertile wetlands provided year-round tucker for the natives.

He dug his heels into Jefferson's flanks to urge him on. After a full day on the road both of them could do with a drink and something to eat. They'd covered over fifty dry, dusty miles since first light.

An expanse of shimmering water came into view, the long afternoon rays of the sun turning the surface of the lagoon to gold. Smelling water Jefferson whinnied. In response a flight of birds took to the wing, their cries breaking the silence of the tinder-dry bush.

The ground vibrated and a horse thundered past. It shuddered to a halt beneath a solitary stand of trees. A cry drowned out the sounds of the waterbirds. The rider fell forwards, arms dangling free, slumped against the buckskin's neck.

Guttural gasps reached a crescendo and turned to rasping sobs. Jim jumped from his saddle, tethered Jefferson and edged closer. The figure sobbed and groaned. Flowing white robes cast an ethereal glow over the silhouette.

‘Ma'am, allow me. Are you hurt?'

She lifted her head, her face barely visible through the heavy curtain of tangled hair. The horse shied. Jim darted closer and grabbed the bridle. ‘Ma'am?'

With hands whiter than her cobweb gown she pulled back her hair. He smothered a gasp. Pain etched her ravaged face and her eyes blazed; her mouth stretched wide by her wracking sobs.

‘I've searched … I've searched high and low.' She threw back her head, exposing the frail column of her neck. ‘I can't find him.'

Her mournful keening sent prickles skittering across his sweat-soaked skin. Uttering a pathetic moan she slipped sideways. He caught her as she toppled to the ground and with his arms tight around her waist he steadied her.

She stared at him with a look of total confusion. ‘Have you found him?' Her demented gaze scanned the edges of the paperbark forest, as though at any moment she would pull free and run.

In an attempt to pacify her he dropped his hands and spread his palms. ‘Ssh! Ssh!'

Her thin fingers bruised the bare skin of his forearms as she clung to him. ‘You must find him.'

‘Indeed I shall, ma'am, but first let me help you.'

At his words her head snapped up and her stormy eyes flashed a warning. With unexpected force she pushed him aside and vaulted back onto her horse. She gave one last agonising cry and took off in the direction of the lagoon, sending another flurry of waterbirds soaring upwards.

Loose white material billowed behind her. A long shawl trailed over her shoulders and tangled with her dappled hair, blending with the pale colour of her horse's coat. As he peered after her she disappeared into the last rays of the setting sun.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he ran his hands up and down his arms to chase away the strange sense of foreboding. Should he chase after her? She rode without a saddle and in her distressed state could easily injure herself. Then again, she'd mounted and galloped off as confident as any seasoned rider.