Raff thrust out from the bedroom, rifle aimed squarely at the trooper’s chest. Evie stood, her eyes wide in shock, her dress filthy and her face bleary.
‘Dolan. Where’s Fitz?’
Raff’s mouth dropped open and the rifle lowered a little.
‘John?’ He stepped back, jerked a thumb towards the door he’d just come through.
‘Alive?’ John’s breath stuck in his throat, his feet rooted to the spot.
‘Yeah.’ Raff rested the rifle by the door.
John barrelled past Raff, who followed. There was Fitz, sodden, still out cold. Creeping forward, John sat on the chair beside the bed and gaped at the sunburned skin, blisters forming. He peered at his brother’s scalp. Blood encrusted a gash and the lump around it. ‘What the hell?’ he whispered.
‘Reckon a rock, or a lump of wood blindsided him,’ Raff said from the doorway. ‘Evie here, Miss Emerson, found him down by the river. He hasn’t come round yet.’
‘How long?’
‘Not sure. A fair while, looking at the sunburn. Waiting for the doctor.’
‘He’s on his way.’ John scooted the chair closer to where Fitz’s head lay on the pillow. ‘Who’s Miss Emerson?’ he asked, looking back at Raff.
‘Mrs Bayley’s sister.’
‘Christ,’ John muttered. His voice low, he said, ‘Don’t let her know I’m Fitz’s brother.’
Raff nodded. ‘All right.’
John turned back to take up Fitz’s hand but he hesitated to touch it. It too was burned. He grabbed up the rag lying in the bowl and dribbled water over his brother’s arm. ‘Christ,’ he said again, closing his eyes a moment. ‘Could it get any worse?’
Raff grunted. ‘Yeah. There are crooked troopers out of Ballarat after us.’
John looked at him. ‘A Sergeant Bill, is it?’
‘Might be,’ Raff said, frowning. ‘Bill McCosker, bald on top of his head with a frizzy red mane, and another bloke who looks like an old boxer.’
‘Sounds like the fellas I saw this morning.’ John rubbed his head hard with both hands, the damp rag smearing the dust on his forehead. ‘I sent the pair of them over the river. God only knows where they’d be now.’
‘We saw them take the punt.’ Then Raff nodded towards the bed. ‘Fitz named McCosker and his mates for corruption in a newspaper report, and McCosker’s come after him. He’ll be back. He’s wily enough to know when he’s been sent on a goose chase.’
John stood, dropped the rag back into the water bowl. ‘Could use a drink,’ he said, heading out of the room.
Miss Emerson’s hands were clasped tight. ‘Billy’s boiled, Constable,’ she said. ‘I’m Evie Emerson, from Bendigo.’
John didn’t offer his name. ‘Miss Emerson, I hope you’re not harmed.’
Raff came out from the bedroom. ‘Fitz was chasing a story, got into some bother.’
‘Clearly,’ John said. ‘Why are you two here, though?’
‘We were all friends once Fitz got to Bendigo. He met Miss Emerson there some years back.’
‘Not an answer.’
Raff watched Evie as she roused herself and headed for the bedroom. He stood aside as she glided past him, head down.
‘Friends, is it?’ John asked.
Raff was in no mood to explain. There’d been no love lost between Fitz and John in their later years. Yet when John had dropped into the chair and had gone to take up Fitz’s hand, he couldn’t deny that the man had been rocked by what he saw.
The constable was helping himself to a pannikin of tea from the billy, then he dragged a chair out from the table and slumped into it. ‘I was only out here a few days or so back.’
Raff, standing at the bedroom door, heard him but took no notice. Instead he was watching Evie as she sat with Fitz. What might have been in the letter Fitz had left for her?
She bent towards Fitz, squeezing the wet rag over his neck. ‘Don’t die, Fitz,’ she was whispering. ‘Please don’t die …’
The words clenched Raff’s heart so tight that for a few moments he missed what else she said. But the next words he heard nearly undid him.
‘… love you, Fitz, so don’t you dare die. There are two of us—’
He turned away before he heard any more, his mouth tight. A lump of rock sat on his chest, thunder beating where his heart was supposed to be.
‘What?’ John asked.
Raff wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. ‘Nothing. He’s fine. Evie’s with him.’
The policeman relaxed a little, his hands cupping the tea. ‘So Fitz might have bit off more than he could chew this time?’
‘Maybe.’
‘This Bill McCosker. Why aren’t other troopers after him? How come he’s roamin’ around the countryside if he’s so crooked?’
Raff lifted a shoulder, eyes cold. ‘Slippery fella.’
John frowned hard, and an ugly twist pulled on his mouth. His voice dropped. ‘Or is he after Fitz for some … other crime?’
Raff was carefully blank. ‘Not that I know of.’
John gave a grunt, out of sorts. ‘Right then.’ He shifted in the chair, as if uncomfortable with his thoughts. ‘I might not have been in touch too often, but he’s still me brother.’
Crossing the room to the open door, Raff surveyed outside. No sign of Robbo with the doctor, or of Mrs Robinson returning with her cart. Was getting late. Just have to wait. Wait while Evie was in with Fitz, whispering in his ear.
Leaning on the doorjamb, the warm air moving around him—
A searing whistle reached him a split second before the timber beside his head smashed with a dense thwack.
‘Shit,’ he roared and dropped back, kicking the rock free of the door and slamming it shut, dropping the latch.
John had hit the floor. ‘See anything?’ he rasped.
‘Nothing.’ Raff scrambled for the rifle resting against the bedroom door, snatched it, sat on his backside checking the chamber and barrel. ‘Evie,’ he called hoarsely. ‘Close the shutters in there, hurry.’
Raff heard them bang shut just before a shotgun blast peppered the door. Splinters flew inside, scattering over the table.
John crawled to the fireplace, grabbed the rifle alongside it and checked it was loaded. ‘Jesus, I hope Robbo and his wife take a bit longer to get here. They’ll walk right into this.’
Raff crept to one of the windows and tugged the flimsy fabric across the space. Not a sound from outside. He peered out of a gap. ‘McCosker and his mate, the boxer. Circling in front.’
‘We just want O’Shea,’ one of them yelled from outside.
‘How the hell did they find Fitz here?’ John raged in a hoarse whisper.
Then another rifle shot boomed and a squawk rent the air. The boxer’s hat had flown off and he was hightailing it down the riverbank and along the water’s edge, dust flying under his horse’s hooves. McCosker wheeled, shock etched on his face. One more shot rang out and a tree branch, low over his head, exploded, was ripped clean off the trunk, and shards of wood showered him. Still another shot pounded into the earth behind his horse. It reared, then took off, its scream piercing the air, McCosker holding on for his life.
A horse and cart pounded into Raff’s view. A stranger was driving, and two horses were tied behind. Jenny Robinson was in the passenger’s side, a rifle in her hands, barrel open. She thrust it to Robbo in the back of the cart who pressed another into her hands. She took quick aim again and fired in the direction of the bolting horses.
The stranger, a lean man with grey hair stuck on his forehead below his hat, a large patrician nose and a dense moustache, hauled the cart up in front of the house. ‘You in there, John, you all right?’ he shouted, the gravelly voice clear. Thrusting the reins to Jenny, he alighted and grabbed a bag from the back.
John snatched open the door. ‘Quick, Doc.’
‘He’s in here,’ Evie said, beckoning the doctor from the bedroom doorway.
Raff ran to the cart, held the reins as Jenny laid the rifle at her feet and pulled on the brake. ‘Told Mr Morgan I was a good shot in my day,’ she said, matter-of-fact, and climbed to the ground. Then she turned to pick up the rifle. ‘Lucky I am. I didn’t realise they were police until they took off.’
‘Police gone bad, Mrs Robinson. And they’re still alive, don’t worry.’
‘Damn right they’re still alive,’ Robbo said, jumping down. ‘She weren’t aiming for ’em.’ He went to her and squeezed her in a bear hug. ‘Good practice, me darlin’ wife.’ He smacked a kiss on her cheek and took the rifle from her, carrying both his and hers inside.
Jenny Robinson wiped her forehead with her arm, rubbed her shoulder where the butt of the rifle had kicked.
‘You all right?’ Raff asked.
She straightened. ‘I most definitely am.’
‘You’re a steady aim with a rifle.’
There was a steely gleam in her eye. ‘I’m used to having to protect what’s mine, and a woman, alone at times out here in the bush, well, she has to know how to look after herself. It would do every woman good to learn how to use a rifle.’
She followed her husband indoors, leaving Raff beside the cart laden with swags and provisions. He wondered if she was as steady as she looked; he knew he wasn’t.
Robbo appeared again. ‘We got two crooks on the loose firing rifles and shotguns all over the place, and the only proper trooper in the district is in here with us. We do have a crack shot in my missus. But what are the chances they’ll be back?’
Raff took in a breath. It was Fitz they were after, and him as well, when it came down to it.
‘I know what you’re thinkin’,’ Robbo said. He kicked the dust at his feet. ‘They’ll be watchin’ most likely. We should go now, not stay.’
Raff knew it. McCosker wouldn’t leave any witnesses, that’s for sure. Evie. The Robinsons. The doctor. ‘Yeah.’ He was thinking hard. He’d go after McCosker. The only way. His breath came short. It meant leaving Fitz and Evie with the others. ‘You a good shot with a rifle, too?’
‘A fair shot. Enough to be scary.’
They had five rifles between them; his, the two Robinsons’, and Fitz’s and John’s inside. There’d be enough ammunition but still, it was too dangerous to stay. He stared across to the scrub. ‘I don’t like it here.’
Robbo eyed the perimeter of the yard. ‘Don’t like it much, meself,’ he muttered.
Raff turned back inside, unease at his neck. Mrs Robinson was instructing Evie how to load a rifle. An oiled rag and a box of casings sat on the table where they were working.
Evie gave Raff a shaky smile. ‘As a milliner, I don’t know I’d make a good shooter.’
‘You won’t have to,’ Mrs Robinson said, and reached over to squeeze her arm. ‘But we will need you to load up for us.’
Evie’s smile dropped away. ‘Raff, do you think more police from Ballarat will come here?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Ballarat?’ Mrs Robinson was surprised.
‘Fitz is a journalist,’ Raff said to Mrs Robinson, and leaned the last rifle against the table, placing the box of casings there too. ‘He’d exposed McCosker’s corruption in Ballarat. That fella had men on the force extorting the gold merchants for protection money. Once Fitz’s stories got to the papers, the police had to act, but McCosker took off.’ He checked John, who was loading his rifle, his head down, listening but saying nothing. He’d said he didn’t want his connection to Fitz known. Raff wasn’t about to say anything about that. He made up his mind and took a breath. ‘Evie.’
She looked up, a light in her eye as her gaze met his.
‘You’ll be going back to town with the others. I’m going after McCosker and his mate.’
Her face fell, her frown swift. ‘No.’
He had a sudden need to be gone, without having to explain himself further to her, or to anyone. No point staying here anyway; he was better off hunting. He stalked across the room to grab his rifle.
‘Raff,’ Evie said, wiping down her dress, leaving traces of black powder over it. ‘Don’t.’ She wrung her hands. ‘Fitz will be all right now the doctor is treating him. We can take him home together.’ She was firm about it. ‘Please don’t go after those men. Leave it to the police.’
Mrs Robinson had her gaze fixed on Raff.
‘It’ll be dusk soon, so if I can find them, I’ll keep them from following you back to town.’ Raff reached for some filled casings and, pocketing them, kept his gaze steady on John. ‘Fitz and I should have stopped McCosker long before now.’
‘You’re not a vigilante, Dolan,’ John growled. ‘Don’t go off half-cocked.’
Raff met Evie’s angry gaze briefly before he got to the bedroom door. ‘Doctor, can Fitz be moved into town?’
The doctor finished up with a threaded needle at Fitz’s scalp, listened to his chest, then put his ear over Fitz’s mouth. He opened eyelids and peered in. Taking a breath, he sat back. ‘Don’t think it could do any more harm. Better chance I can keep an eye on him back there.’ He unrolled a long bandage and wound it around Fitz’s head. ‘Have to be careful how we handle him.’
It was good enough for Raff. ‘Let’s move Fitz into the back of the cart.’
‘Raff, don’t go,’ Evie said again, standing straight, her eyes fierce. ‘I—we—need you with us. We—’
‘Dolan, I’m giving you an express order. We all go to town now. Clear?’
Safety in numbers. It was a better idea to escort Evie—and Fitz—back to the town. Then Raff would do what he damned well pleased. Biting down his frustration, Raff swiped a hand over his mouth. He took a long look at Evie.
‘That’s what you want? All of us to go back to town?’ he asked, abrupt and frowning.
Bewildered but relieved, Evie said, ‘Of course it’s what I want.’
And McCosker gets away. Damn it. Raff was gruff. ‘Robbo,’ he called outside. ‘It’s back to Cobram.’