The Horse Thief (29 page)

The prisoner
. Jim was not a prisoner. Papa was dropping the charges.

‘You say your father, Mr Kilhampton, intended to drop the charges against James Cobb? I have nothing to that avail in my paperwork.'

‘My father realised his accusations were erroneous.' If he insisted on sounding like a court reporter from the newspaper then so could she. ‘He intended to come to Maitland himself and ensure the charges were dropped. Since I was passing he asked me to inform Mr Cobb to … to prevent him being unduly concerned until his release was secured.' There, that didn't sound bad.

‘And your father employed Mr Cobb to work on his property?'

‘No, I … yes. He advertised for a stud master and Mr Cobb answered the advertisement and secured employment.'

‘So your father has returned from Sydney and is now residing at Helligen once more.'

‘Yes, he's residing at Helligen at the moment.' That was closer to the truth. To admit that she, a mere woman, had been running the property would no doubt make the situation appear even more peculiar. Where was Cecil? For a man who prided himself on his ability to sort matters this time lapse was impossible. The clock struggled its way past the hour, each and every second ticking in her head. For the first time in her life she would be pleased to see Cecil.

‘It states here that James Cobb was in possession of a horse, Goodfellow, belonging to your father. I take it that is no longer the case.'

‘It was all a misunderstanding. Goodfellow is at our property and, as I said, my father intends to drop the charges.' How many times did she have to say it?

‘Ah! Intends. I see.' He took another sip. ‘In that case, when Mr Cobb escaped he was still under the charge of horse theft.' He refilled his glass and drummed his fat fingers on the side. ‘And you have no idea where Mr Cobb might be?'

She shook her head although she knew exactly where Jim would go. Back to get Jefferson—she'd put money on it. Jefferson meant more to him than his freedom. He would leave Goodfellow but not Jefferson. The horse was all he had. And when Papa found out he was back on the property? A cold shudder traced her spine. She had to get back there. She couldn't go to Sydney until Jim was safe. Why had she agreed to leave?

‘A thief generally returns to the scene of his crime.'

The words hung in the air. The wretched man was a mind-reader. ‘I have absolutely no idea what you mean.' She scrabbled for something more. ‘He has
not
committed a crime. He is
not
a horse thief.'

She almost missed the knock. Before the governor had time to open his mouth again the door flew open.

‘India. Thank goodness.'

She leapt up and almost threw herself into Cecil's arms. Never, never in her life had she been so pleased to see anyone, least of all Cecil.

‘Mr Bryce.' The governor lumbered to his feet, his hand outstretched and his face wreathed in a sycophantic smile, a far cry from anything she'd been privy to.

Cecil pulled himself up to his full height, which was in fact quite imposing, and peered down at the governor. She took a step closer, surprised by her need to seek Cecil's protection.

‘I hardly think this is a social occasion.' Cecil ignored the governor's outstretched hand. His inane grin dropped along with his hand and India restrained a cheer.

‘Quite why you saw fit to detain Miss Kilhampton is beyond my comprehension. I shall be taking the matter further, have no doubt of that.'

A degree of spluttering filled the room, almost covering Cecil's words. ‘Come, my dear. Let me get you home.'

Home.
For a moment hope blossomed.
Home.
And they might get there before Jim ran into Papa. Cecil ushered her out the door without a backward glance and marched her across the compound.

The shadows cast by the gates had lengthened and she drew closer to Cecil's side, resting a hand on his arm. He tucked it under his elbow and she shrank against him, comforted by his presence.

‘Violet is at the Rose, Shamrock and Thistle. We really can't leave her alone any longer. It is hardly suitable. The mistress assured me she would act as chaperone but I'm unconvinced. Violet would tempt any man. I took the liberty of bringing Fred with me.'

The ratty man at the main gate appeared from his hidey-hole, took a quick glance at the grim look on Cecil's face and swung the gate open. Swaying against Cecil she almost collapsed in relief at the sight of Fred lounging against the buggy, with her horse tethered behind munching on a bag of something delicious.

Cecil handed her up into the buggy. ‘Let's get back to Morpeth now, Fred, quick as you can. Miss Violet will be worried.'

‘Yes, sir. Mr Bryce, sir.'

India collapsed against the padded seat and let out a long slow breath. The afternoon had not been one of her finest. At every turn some evil bunyip stretched out a toe and tripped her, and then before she had time to get back on course something else cropped up.

Her most pressing need now was to return home. How to convince Cecil of that? He had played an admirable role as rescuer, but the prospect of Jim returning a wanted man, in search of Jefferson, sent shivers scuttling down her spine. Papa would not be impressed.

‘Not long now, my dear, a few miles and then we will have you safe and sound at the inn. We'll take the steamer to Sydney as planned in the morning. By tomorrow afternoon we'll be ensconced at Potts Point with all this nonsense behind us.'

Nonsense!
Wasn't he even going to ask her what she'd been doing at the gaol?

‘Miss Violet was really worried when you didn't catch up with us before Morpeth.' Fred answered her question.
Violet!
Of course, she would have taken great delight in apprising Cecil of her version of the situation. India could almost hear the conversation, the sighs and raised eyebrows, lowered lashes and coy smiles.

‘Cecil.'

‘Yes, my dear.' He gave her arm another soothing pat.

‘Thank you so much for coming to my rescue. I feel a complete fool.'

‘Think nothing of it. Your father would be horrified if anything happened to you on my watch. I'm only pleased we resolved the situation so easily. These pompous fools always crumble in the face of authority.'

The only problem being the situation was not resolved, and she had to find some way of persuading Cecil that she must return home. Travelling to Helligen tonight was out of the question. Tomorrow, however, was a distinct possibility.

Twenty-Nine

‘I think it's an absolute disgrace, India, that you can throw our plans into such disarray.' Violet tossed her head and stepped up into the buggy. ‘Papa will flay you alive. Cecil is a paragon of virtue to tolerate your tantrums.'

India didn't deign to answer. She'd exhausted every last ounce of her energy convincing Cecil they should return home. It was only when she played her trump card, burst into tears and suggested she, and by association Cecil, might be implicated in Jim's escape that Cecil had crumbled and agreed. He'd drawn the line at allowing her to travel alone with Fred though. Why, she had no idea. She'd made the trip unaccompanied more times than she could count. Something about responsibility and appropriateness.

‘India, do you still insist on riding? I'm sure we can make room for you.' He shifted along the seat closer to Violet.

From her vantage point in the saddle Violet's little quiver of delight as Cecil moved closer was more than obvious. India ignored it. Let Violet play her games. The thought of marrying Cecil made her physically sick. It would mean trusting him to take care of her, losing control, conforming. There would be no more freedom to spend days at Helligen. The look her mother had given her and the touch on her shoulder had exuded such sympathy and understanding she'd dared to dream that she might, with Mama's assistance, escape her sentence. It would require time and gentle progress to build the bridges that illness and guilt had shattered. Marriage to Cecil would prove an impenetrable barrier.

Since his masterful rescue last night Cecil had been more than attentive to her every need; however, she was in grave danger of suffering an attack of the vapours for the first time in her life. Riding would give her a better chance to breathe and scour the countryside. She had no doubt that Jim would make for Helligen. Jefferson would be his only concern. If she could find him and manage to convince him not to return while Papa was at home, then perhaps she could bring Jefferson to him.

The miles disappeared beneath the horse's hooves along with her hopes. Jim wouldn't travel the road. On foot he'd stick to the trails and tracks, out of sight … unless he'd managed to acquire a horse. Or steal a horse!

As the shadows lengthened the hills above Helligen appeared on the horizon and India reined in beside the carriage. ‘I will ride ahead and alert everyone to our return.'

Cecil leant across Violet. ‘I don't think that's a very sensible idea, my dear. Would it not be better if we present a united front to your father? I feel sure you will need my support. I shall speak to him man to man. Make him understand the need for our return. Convince him you have only gone against his dictates because of the dire circumstances in which you found yourself.'

This was exactly what she'd feared. ‘I am quite capable of presenting my own case, Cecil, thank you.'

Violet compensated for her shortness by resting her hand on Cecil's sleeve and giving him an understanding pat, reminiscent of the kind one would offer a faithful hound. ‘India, that's unnecessarily rude. Cecil is trying to do his best for you. Don't be so churlish.'

Not bothering to respond India brought her crop down on her horse's flanks and took off with Violet's cry of disgust echoing in her ears. She didn't look back. She'd got herself into this situation and she would be the one to take the matter up with Papa. Not Cecil.

She crossed the river and entered Helligen through the back paddocks, gulping in the sweet fresh air. It was such a relief to be home. She could breathe again. Think again. And think she would have to do before she faced Papa. She picked up the driveway below the mares' paddock and slowed to a trot only when she reached the fig trees flanking the house.

The courtyard was empty save for the kookaburra that offered a raucous welcome from his perch on the open stable door. A string of washing billowed in the breeze and white butterflies flitted around Peggy's cabbages, searching for crevices to lay their eggs.

She dismounted and loosened the girth before allowing her horse to drink, then tied the slip rope to the hitching post. The buggy could not be far behind and Fred could deal with everything when he arrived. She had other things on her mind. Who first? Papa or Mama? Better still, Peggy. An easier reception would give her time to collect her thoughts and find out how the land lay.

As always, the kitchen door stood ajar. Peggy's ample rump welcomed her. Head as good as stuck in the oven, her muffled mutterings peppered the warm air.

‘I'm back.'

‘Sweet Mary and Jesus, you made me jump.' Peggy straightened up, almost dropping the tray of scones in her hands. ‘What are you doing here? I imagined you arriving in Sydney. Swanning around Potts Point with the upper crust.'

India unhooked her hat from around her neck and dropped it onto the table. ‘It's a long story.'

‘Nothing changes. What have you done this time?'

‘It's not so much what I've done but what Jim's done.'

‘Oh, not again. That man's more trouble than he's worth.' Peggy wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Tea?'

India nodded. She'd made the right decision. Tea and comfort, then she'd face Papa. She pulled out her favourite chair and sat at the table, elbows resting on the weathered surface.

‘Well?' Peggy asked, spooning leaves into the big brown teapot.

‘I went to the gaol.'

Peggy flashed her a look from beneath her eyebrows and reached for the kettle. ‘You spoke to him then, told him.'

‘Not exactly.'

The water hissed and spat and most of it ended up in the teapot. Peggy plonked it onto the table and reached for two cups. ‘I'm waiting. Spit it out for goodness sake. I can't stand the suspense.'

‘He wasn't there.'

‘Wasn't there? But Mr Kilhampton hasn't left the place to get the charges dropped. He couldn't have sent anyone, either. I would have known. Fred was with you. And Tom Bludge has been sleeping off the devil's own hangover. He couldn't have put one foot in front of another.'

‘Exactly.' Her face flushed. If it were so difficult to tell Peggy, how on earth would she face Papa? ‘I sent Fred and Violet ahead to Morpeth and went to the gaol. As you suggested.'

‘Me? I did no such thing. Just said it would be nice for him to know the charges weren't hanging over his head. I didn't expect you to go there. Thought you'd send Fred or something.'

That thought hadn't even crossed her mind. If she was honest she'd rather hoped she might see him. ‘I went. When I got there I asked to see Jim and—'

‘Jim? He was arrested as James Cobb. You didn't—'

‘Yes, I did.' She hung her head. ‘I didn't even think.'

Peggy pursed her lips and gave the teapot three aggressive twists. ‘And …'

‘I ended up seeing the governor.'

‘The governor. The governor of Maitland Gaol.' Peggy shuddered. ‘Foul place. Nasty man, I've heard tell.'

The sounds of the wailing women echoed in India's ears. ‘Yes. Yes, it is.' She had to spit it out. Get it over and done with. In some strange way she was pleased Jim had escaped. At least her foolishness hadn't made it worse. Not yet, anyway. ‘He'd escaped.' There, she'd said it.

‘Oh Lordy. What did he go and do that for? How? No-one gets out of that place. The walls are six feet thick. I saw the blocks they quarried from round Morpeth way. Huge, they were. How did he get out?'