Bendigo
Raff and Bluey had been ambling along in the afternoon sun. They’d already camped a night after a long day on the road from Ballarat, so Raff was keen to find another site to rest their weary bones.
There was a party coming towards him from Bendigo and they met at the crossroads at Newstead. Furniture and belongings were stacked haphazardly in a cart and two women sat in the front seat, one of whom, the driver herself, had a very large, floppy hat. Raff recognised them.
He tugged on the reins and pulled Bluey to one side of the road. As the cart drew abreast, he peered into the back of it. Sure enough, Edwin Cooper was propped up on all manner of bags and blankets, and dozing, mouth open.
Head in the air, fearful, her eyes darting, Miss Jane Cooper did not look at him. Raff nudged Bluey closer.
Edwin opened his eyes. ‘Why are we slow— You,’ he sputtered and pushed himself further back amid the bags. One eyebrow had gauze over it, and when his mouth dropped open, there was a gap where a tooth had been. His nose was at an interesting angle, and still swollen.
‘Mr Cooper, it looks like you and the ladies might be going to Ballarat.’ Raff crossed his wrists, draping the reins in his hands as he sat in the saddle. ‘I suggest you don’t.’
Edwin, his colour already pale, blanched to grey.
‘And who are you, young man, to intimidate a stranger on a public road, in broad daylight?’ Mrs Cooper queried, imperiously. ‘Taking advantage of innocent travellers, I presume.’
‘You and your family are hardly innocent, Mrs Cooper.’
Startled, the older woman squinted at Raff.
Jane aimed an elbow at her and grated, ‘Shut up, Mother.’
Raff leaned forward. ‘I don’t suppose you’re used to being on the receiving end.’ He peered at Edwin, who couldn’t scramble further back in the cart. ‘You usually work under cover of darkness, or behind the skirts of others. Paid your dues yet, Edwin?’ He pushed back his hat, not worried that he would be recognised. ‘Miss Cooper, my strong advice is that you take a right turn here’—he waved at the road in front of them—‘away from Ballarat and head towards Maryborough.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Make sure you pass through the town and keep going. If I hear you’ve taken up there, I might come looking for you.’ He nodded, satisfied that they remained dumbstruck. Tipping his hat, he continued his ambling ride towards Bendigo.
Not too far down, he turned in the saddle to look back. The cart had made a right turn and was trundling towards Maryborough. Only for an instant did he feel remorse for sending the Coopers towards the good folk in that town.
Once more, Raff would take a bath at Bartletts’ boarding house. By the time he’d got into town it had been too late to risk visiting Evie. He might just get the door slammed in his face. At least he’d have happy news to impart; the Coopers had left Bendigo.
Stripping down, he stepped into the warm water. The stern colourless sign No Smoking Cigars was still in his line of sight. Reading would blot that out. He reached for the latest newspaper on top a stack nearby, folding it open on page four. He snorted to himself. Fitz had sent in his ‘Mr Fossey’ article, and the report of McCosker’s demise was under an eye-catching headline. It was full of colourful descriptions and the heroic deeds of an unnamed pair of men. Two intrepid ladies had been ‘instrumental’ in chasing away the desperate criminal and were singlehandedly the heroines of the day with the swift capture of Constable Porter, ex Sergeant McCosker’s henchman. McCosker had bungled his ambush of innocent settlers and had escaped along the river at Cobram.
Fitz had it sounding like he’d witnessed the whole adventure.
‘According to the coroner, McCosker met Death with a broken neck,’ Fitz had crowed. ‘His body was found on the riverbank, thereby ending the reign of terror this corrupt police officer had inflicted not only on the hard-working gold merchants of Ballarat and their families, but also the unsuspecting citizens of the Murray River town of Cobram.’
Fitz lamented the death of ‘trusted police officer, Constable John O’Shea from gunshot, his loss sorely felt by those who knew him. The criminal who had murdered him, Ernest Haines, well known in the area, was apprehended and at present awaiting trial, enjoying the hospitality delights of good Queen Victoria’s Pentridge Prison.’
Immediately below was Fitz’s report on Evie’s appearance in court, under the headline, ‘Dubious Character Leaves Town’. The article was scathing of ‘the unscrupulous, farcical Cooper family and their contemptible deeds’.
Good thing Fitz had used a pseudonym for the pieces. The McCosker story was one thing, but Fitz’s story on the Coopers was borderline. He’d left out nothing, added his praise for an intrepid and honourable private investigator, Mr Bendigo Barrett, and had lively descriptions of the guilty parties: ‘Edwin Cooper, amusing in his foppish pomposity’, ‘Mrs Beryl Cooper and the inflated sense of her standing in society …’ and ‘Miss Jane Cooper seemingly unaware that her hat appeared to have been retrieved from the ragbag’. He also cited partial statements made by other victims. How Fitz had come into those, Raff didn’t want to know.
But the last lines were more than memorable. ‘It is this journalist’s humble opinion, after observing a mighty magistrate in fine fettle dispensing his particular brand of justice, that a more deserving woman by name of Miss Evie Emerson could not be found. Magistrate Rudge exonerated this most worthy person and dismissed outright the scurrilous claims against her. To those who have slandered and disrespected this woman on the flimsy but defamatory workings of the Cooper family, I say to you, shame! Your day will come,’ Fitz thundered.
It was signed, Your Roving Reporter, Mr Fossey.
Raff leaned back and laughed. Good on you, Fitz.
Raff approached Evie’s house. She should’ve been just about on her way to work. You’ve waited too long already, you fool. Hurry it up. He tied Bluey to the gate, took three steps past the little garden, which had sprung back to its former glory, and knocked on the door. This time, he wouldn’t go until he’d said his piece, leaving Evie with no doubt about how he felt, and what he wanted. The nervous thud of his heart ignored his determination.
A stranger answered, a cheery-faced, dark-haired woman who was big with child. ‘Good morning.’ Her smile was bright and happy, as if all was well in her world.
At a loss for a moment, Raff simply stood there, hat in his hands. Then, ‘Good morning. I’m looking for Miss Emerson.’
‘Oh, she’s gone,’ said the woman. ‘My husband and I have rented the place from her.’
‘Gone,’ he repeated. He hadn’t thought she would leave. She’d gone before he could tell her—
‘Yes,’ the young woman said, with a beaming smile, ‘we’ve been here two weeks now.’
His disappointment sharp, his gut hollowed for an instant. Thanking her, turning away, he stared at Bluey. Left, and gone where? He looked back to ask, and before he could, the woman called out.
‘I believe she’s gone to Echuca for a while if that helps.’ She laughed when he grinned broadly at her. ‘You’re welcome.’