Cobram
Evie’s arms were leaden, and try as she might, she could barely hold them high enough to keep shade over Fitz’s face. She could only blow flies away with her breath, could only lift a shoulder and press her face against it to stop the dripping sweat. As the cart rocked over the hard road, the bones in her backside complained.
More blisters rose on Fitz’s cheeks and forehead, and tiny ones bloomed, growing to join bigger ones. Oh, my good God, it looks messy. She hoped there wouldn’t be any infection.
She dropped her elbows a little to rest. Her head drooped. Late in the afternoon of her first day here, and already she’d learned she’d lost a sister, a nephew and most probably some time ago, a brother-in-law. Now Fitz; would she lose him too? A lump closed her dry throat.
A thought struck her, and her glance collided with Raff’s before his stare cut back to the horizon. He was unreadable, easy-going on his horse, not hurried, not panicked. Solid. Dependable.
I won’t lose him, too.
Her glance darted away. It didn’t bear thinking about.
Robbo’s voice distracted her. ‘We take the back way in, Constable?’
‘Down the laneway.’
The cart turned right off the main road, tossed into a pothole, clambered over old wheel ruts and bobbed along a track, turning left through a gate. The doctor rode ahead a little and as Evie craned to see, he was dismounting and tying up at a rail. The back of a doleful weatherboard house came into view, and the cart soon pulled up.
Mrs Robinson leaned back towards her. ‘We’re at the constable’s house, Miss Emerson. Won’t be long until the men get Mr Morgan out of the cart and inside. Can you manage a bit longer?’
Why did everyone call Fitz ‘Mr Morgan’? Raff hadn’t corrected them, so she wasn’t about to. She only nodded, lowering her elbows again to rest. The shirt hung over Fitz’s face, the sun at least not scorching any longer.
The doctor leaped into the back of the cart, swept away Evie’s hands, and opened Fitz’s eyes gently. Peering into the left one then the right, he grunted. ‘Tonight will tell,’ he said. ‘Ready, gentlemen?’
Robbo and Raff eased Fitz to the edge of the cart. Evie thought she would faint with relief after his weight had gone from her legs. She found it hard to move, tried to stand, crouched instead, gripping the side of the cart.
‘I’ll unlock the house,’ the constable called from somewhere.
‘Bring the bathtub, fill it with water,’ the doctor ordered. ‘We’ll dunk him in the yard, cool him down quickly, then get him inside. Keep his head up, though.’
Evie gasped. ‘Dunk him?’ She’d never heard of that before. People were only ever sponged to cool off the skin, she knew that from her school days if children became burned from the sun.
The doctor’s glare pinned her. ‘Ask any sunburned river man or man burned from a boiler fire, miss. A good dunking in cool water.’
Evie nodded and clambered off the end of the cart, the blood rushing back into her stiff limbs, prickling her toes. She stood a moment, dazed, watching Raff hold Fitz in the tub, trying to trickle a drip over Fitz’s split mouth and swollen tongue, the blisters on his face roaming. At last, she saw his Adam’s apple bob, heard a thin sputter, a slurp.
Jenny came back and touched her shoulder, handing her a cup of water. ‘Come along, Miss Emerson. We have men to feed. The night might be a long one.’
Robbo had left for the grocery shop, the butcher’s and the baker’s, with a list in his pocket that Jenny had written. The constable told him to mark it up on his cards at the stores; he’d deal with it later.
The doctor said Fitz could be lifted onto the bed in the constable’s room, leaving him to dry off naturally. ‘I’ll be back in the morning. Keep him cool. If he wakes, give him more water. He’ll have an almighty headache. If the wound becomes red and swollen, come find me immediately. Good day to you.’
Raff followed him outside, and Evie scurried to catch up. As the doctor swung into the saddle, Raff thanked him.
‘He was lucky,’ the doctor said. ‘The whack on the head and the sunstroke each could have killed him. Can’t tell if he was in the river for long. There might still be long-term damage.’ He rode off.
Evie stood alongside Raff. Her eyes felt scratchy, puffy and were squishy when she blinked. She would look a sight, she knew, the dirt and mud on her skirt, her hair all messed up. She’d wager her nose was red and not just from the sun. Dried up and worn out, she was grieving, hurting and numb at the same time, as if everything was locked down tight.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever had a day quite like this one,’ she said, her voice croaky.
He didn’t meet her gaze, only murmured, ‘Mmh,’ before ducking his head, turning to go inside.
‘Raff, wait.’
He turned back, his eyes so sad. He kept his shoulders straight until for a second or two, they slumped just a little. Suddenly, she didn’t know what to ask for herself, or what she needed to say. It was Raff who needed. She stepped closer, put her arms around her friend, around his waist, and rested her head on his broad chest. Her tears didn’t come. Instead, comfort rolled over her as she stood there, even though he didn’t hold her, didn’t move. All she had from him was the strong thump of his heart under her ear. She was the one offering comfort.
A moment passed before his arms slid around her, hard, warm and solid as he pulled her close. He held her there, tight against him, holding her grief and their fears, a refuge, a safe haven each. He dropped his chin to her hair. She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply.
It felt an awful lot like home.