The Horse Thief (20 page)

His promise to Mrs Kilhampton niggled at his mind. He intended to honour it and one day soon take Goodfellow back to Helligen. It was a fitting end to his foolish quest. Without the deed of sale his father could be branded a horse thief. It must have weighed on his mind otherwise he wouldn't have asked him to set the record straight.

The horse, despite his age, was quite capable of making the trip. Besides, he had more questions to ask Mrs Kilhampton about his father, and when India returned with her father he had every intention of demanding answers. Whether they'd answer them was another matter, but there was more to the story of Goodfellow and Helligen. India had accused him of lying—what had the Kilhamptons been doing, for goodness sake?

Jefferson stuck his wet nose into his hair and snorted until Jim rolled over. He scratched him behind the ears. The perfect stallion he'd reared from a foal. Such conformation, such stamina, and now he'd never have the opportunity to see him race. It was a bloody good job his father had taken Goodfellow away instead of allowing the trigger-happy fool to wreak his vengeance on the poor animal, otherwise Jefferson wouldn't exist.

Someone had to know the whole story. The horse snorted and tossed his head in the direction of the hills, to the west where the sun was beginning its descent.

‘No, we're not going to Munmurra, not just yet.'

Jefferson whinnied and ambled off along the riverbank. After about twenty paces he stopped and looked back, then kicked up his heels and took off down the track.

Cursing, Jim leapt up and sprinted after him. Something must have spooked the animal. As he rounded the bend in the river he found Jefferson waiting under the shade of a tree eyeing him.

‘What's your problem?'

The horse gave him a long, considered look and turned his head once more to the west.

‘I told you we'll go soon. When India returns we'll get Goodfellow and take him home.'

Jefferson shook his head and snorted, unimpressed by the response he'd received.

‘We can't …' Why the hell couldn't they? Returning to Helligen via Munmurra would mean an extra day. No more. Then, when India got back she'd see Goodfellow with her own eyes and understand the reason for his subterfuge. At worst, Kilhampton would order him off the property. Tell him to pack his bags. That was going to happen anyway. At best, India would understand. And Mrs Kilhampton would be happy.

Jim looked the stallion in the eye. ‘Stay there.' He ran back to collect his saddle from under the tree.

Once astride Jefferson and heading west a weight lifted from his shoulders, replaced by a calm certainty. He'd be back at Helligen by tomorrow evening with Goodfellow. It was where the animal belonged and at last his father would rest easy. Mrs Kilhampton would no doubt be overjoyed to see the horse and when India returned … when India returned he would put everything straight.

Twenty-One

India leant back against the bulkhead and pulled her knees up to her chin, hugging her shawl around her shoulders to protect herself from the stiff breeze whipping across the harbour. The rock and sway of the ship reminded her of a simpler time, a time before heartbreak and disappointment stalked the Kilhamptons. She was born aboard
The Cloud
and took her first steps on the rough timber of the decks. The carefree life of freedom and adventure was one Papa still relished.

‘It's wonderful to have you in Sydney again. You can't imagine how I miss you and your sister.' His pose was so familiar. Erect, hands behind his back and his legs braced against whatever the ocean might throw at him. His large, strong hands rested on the smooth wheel, his eyes scanning the waterways. Even though they were at anchor his senses were alert to the slightest movement. Perhaps Papa didn't belong at Helligen, maybe her dreams were misplaced. He appeared so at ease captaining his ship.

‘Why did you buy Helligen? Why didn't Mama stay aboard with you or live here in Sydney while you were at sea?'

He turned with a quizzical expression on his face, his lips twisting in a half smile as though he found pleasure in the memory. ‘It was an old dream, forged long ago. We both wanted more than we'd had for our children, you and Violet, and life aboard a ship, no matter how beautiful …' His voice trailed off as he cast his eyes up the tall, straight mast to the immaculate furled sails. ‘
The Cloud
is not the life for a family.'

‘But nor was Helligen.'

‘Helligen was everything we dreamt it would be and when Oliver was born …'

The memory of the words in his journal knifed through her mind.

He swallowed his grief. ‘We had everything.'

‘Until Mama's accident and Oliver's death.' Speaking failed to alleviate the tightness in her throat. She had to shoulder some of the blame. She clutched her arms tighter around her body and swayed with the motion of the ship.

He nodded. ‘Your mother's accident should never have occurred.' Papa's jaw tightened. In the past the conversation ended here. They had never discussed Oliver's death or the events that led up to Mama's accident.

‘Tell me again what happened.' India embarked on forbidden territory, the subject taboo as far back as she could remember. Now there was more at stake and perhaps she was selfish, but if she had to give up Jim for her family she had a right to understand the reason.

He grunted. ‘You've heard it all before. Your mother fell in love with that wretched stallion. She was determined to ride him, breed from him. She and the Cobb fellow hatched some foolish plan. They were going to breed the finest racehorse in the world.' He swung the wheel, his face etched with pain. ‘From the moment she set eyes on Goodfellow she was besotted.' He turned from her, his shirt taut across his broad shoulders as he stared over the water.

Her dream was no different to Mama's. She wanted to breed the finest racehorse, too. She wanted to plead with him, beg him to continue. ‘Papa?'

After an uncomfortable silence he twisted and faced her once more. The look in his eyes sent a stab of guilt through her. ‘She spent all her time out in the paddocks, riding, working with that wretched man. That's what caused the string of miscarriages. Damn it! I wanted, we both wanted, a son. The doctors said the only way was for your mother to spend her time confined to the house, no riding, a life of calm and peace. I returned home and managed to convince her she should leave the place to Cobb and the band of labourers we had on hand. Wait until after she had given birth. She did. And Oliver was born. The culmination of all our dreams.'

Papa's jaw tightened and he compressed his lips. The agony in his face made her heart bleed. She stood up and moved closer to him, but he held up his hand, stilling her.

He swallowed and continued. ‘The doctors recommended light exercise, a short walk every day, and they promised she would recover her strength. Then five weeks, just five weeks after Oliver's birth, Cobb lured her back out and almost killed her! He had my strict instruction she wasn't even to be in the stables.'

Raw anger, untempered by time, boiled to the surface. The colour rose to his face and he slammed his fist against the bulkhead. What hope had she of convincing him Cobb's son belonged at Helligen, that he was the man for the job?

‘He didn't even accompany her. Just let her go.'

A picture of Mama only a few days ago flashed before her eyes—astride Jefferson, bareback, wheeling to a halt on the narrow bush track as competent as any stockman.

‘When I discovered she'd gone we sent out search parties. Cobb had the audacity to pretend he had no knowledge of the incident. She couldn't have even mounted the animal without assistance. He stood seventeen hands! A man's horse. A stallion.'

Mama was far from an incapable or novice rider. She'd managed to mount Jefferson without any help only the other day. Did Papa have no knowledge of his wife's capabilities? India studied his face, weighing up the possibility of continuing the conversation. It was as though there was something just inches from her, something slippery that she couldn't quite grasp.

‘When you found her …'

‘Cobb found her. Is it essential we go down this track, India? I don't see what bearing it has on matters today. The past is just that—past. Leave it where it belongs.'

India's temper flared. It might be the past but it still affected her every waking moment, her whole existence. She had too much to lose and a debt to pay. This time she wasn't prepared to give up without a fight.

‘It's not in the past, Papa. Violet, Mama, you and I—we all live in the shadow of this every day. I want to understand.'

‘There must be a reason for this sudden interest.' He turned and fixed her with a stare, the same stare that halted her in her tracks as a child. ‘Well? Is there something wrong with your mother?'

‘No, there's nothing wrong with Mama. In fact, she seems better, brighter. The renewed activity, the prospect of new foals and …'

‘And?'

Colour flooded her face. ‘The new man I employed has a stallion and she's captivated.'

‘Captivated? By the man or his stallion?'

India puffed her cheeks then let out a long slow stream of air, trying to dissipate the heat in her face. It wasn't her mother who was captivated by the man, far from it.

‘I think you'd better tell me the whole story.'

‘So do I. Will you listen and not lose your temper?'

‘I don't like the sound of this. I can't promise I won't be angry. I will, however, listen until the end.'

India sucked in a breath. ‘I put an advertisement for a stud master in
The Maitland Mercury
in your name.' Without giving Papa the opportunity to interrupt India took a quick breath and continued. ‘Jim Mawgan arrived. He seemed perfect for the job and I employed him. He's strong and capable, has a way with horses and a great understanding of my … our needs.'

‘You sound like your mother.' There it was again, the oblique reference to something more than she'd expected. She raised an eyebrow and he closed his mouth, lips pursed.

‘Everything went well. That's when Mama began to take an interest. She watched all the activity from her window.' India swallowed back the whole truth about her mother's nightly sojourn; she'd get to that later. While she had Papa's attention it was better to move on and leave out the finer details. ‘It turned out Jim Mawgan, as he'd introduced himself, was in fact James Cobb, the son …'

All sound disappeared, no splashing of waves against the ship, no screeching of gulls, just a solid and agonising void. A shadow fell across Papa's face, a mixture of pain and loathing that quickly turned to downright anger.

His bushy eyebrows shot together and a deep frown creased his forehead. ‘I know who he is,' he spat through gritted teeth.

She ploughed on regardless. ‘You told me I had a year. A year to make this work until I had to consider marriage.'

‘I didn't expect you to advertise for a marriage partner.'

‘I didn't.' She slammed her hands down on the deck and jumped to her feet facing him. ‘Why do you think I'm interested in the man for anything other than his capabilities?' Who was the liar now? ‘You promised you'd listen.' The plaintive note in her voice made her cringe.

‘I'm not having him on Helligen. I will not have any member of that family anywhere near my property or my family. They as good as destroyed us. Cobb's last act was to put a bullet through my stallion's head. It was a fitting end. I only wish he'd turned the gun on himself.'

‘You don't understand. Jim is not his father. Thomas Cobb is dead. You can't blame the sins of the father on the son. It says so in the bible. His son is a charming, capable young man with a great knowledge of horses. He has the most beautiful stallion of his own, so like Goodfellow. I would like to use him for some of our mares. I'm sure he'd throw buckskins.'

‘And he has you wrapped around his little finger, just like your mother.'

‘No, he does not have me
wrapped around his little finger
. I believe he's the best man for the job.' And the only man she'd ever wanted.

‘He is not, and neither was his father. I will not live through this again. Thomas Cobb ruined our family, destroyed my wife, your mother. I will not have his son doing the same to you. Don't you understand there's more at stake than your infatuation with this man and his horse? If you say you want to take responsibility and manage Helligen then you must understand what that entails. An entire community is reliant on your success. If you're not up to the job then the property must be sold. Either get the man off Helligen or I will.'

‘You promised me a year and I'm not prepared to let him go. He
is
the best man for the job. Regardless of whose son he may or may not be, I want him at Helligen.' There, she'd said it. Forget Jim's lies, his ulterior motives, she wanted him at Helligen and she wanted more time to explore the strange connection they had.

‘Then you have a further decision to make. Your family, or the family who destroyed all I held dear. We return to Helligen as soon as possible.'

Twenty-Two

Jim opened the wooden gate and ran his fingers over the carved words—
Helligen Stud
. He led the two horses through and shut it firmly behind him. This was his final opportunity and he would make good his promise to his father. He would right past wrongs. Return Goodfellow to his lawful owners and move on. The old horse raised his head and breathed the air. Jim's heart lifted. Helligen was in his blood and he suspected in Goodfellow's, too. He kicked up his heels as if to urge Jefferson on and tell him fresh water and a biscuit of lucerne waited just around the corner.

‘Hey, Mr Cobb, sir. We've been wondering when you'd be back—' Fred's eyebrows disappeared into the shock of hair hanging over his forehead and he let out a low whistle. ‘Who's that?'