CHAPTER 55
James ran after the shearing truck and waved at the driver to stop. When the truck slowed, he climbed on the rear bumper and pushed in the bales of wool that were sliding out. He retied the rope and jumped back to the ground. “Load nearly toppled out,” he said to the driver, then smacked the door. “You’re good now.” The man tipped his hat and drove off, the load swaying like a dancing rump.
An old ute carried a trail of dust from the other side of the road, turned too fast into the drive, lifting half the wheels off the ground, then settled with an angry bang. The truck parked in front of the house and a lean Aborigine sauntered out, his hat so low that only his chin showed. He climbed the stairs to the big house and knocked on the door. Meredith came to the window, peered out with a grimace and disappeared behind the curtain, closing it tight. The Aborigine waited for several minutes, then laughed, retraced his footprints lazily.
Tom wiped the sweat from his forehead, still panted from loading the bales. “What you think he wants?”
“Maybe a bite.” James frowned. “Cook didn’t even open the door for the bloke.”
The black man went back to the car. “Something I can get for you?” James shouted.
The man flashed him a full set of white teeth. “Lookin’ fer Mr. ’Arrington.”
“Left this morning.”
The man’s smile faded. “Too bad. Had a message fer ’im.” He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a rumpled piece of brown paper, handed it to James.
The lead had smeared on the oily paper, but he saw the word, saw the pressure of the X that had ripped holes. “Who gave this to you?”
“White fella. Told me t’tell Mr. ’Arrington not t’come.” The man watched James’s face carefully and the black lines lost their silliness. “There’s trouble in Coolgardie. Tonight. Everybody steamin’. Everybody lookin’ t’fight.” His eyes were full then and deep and held James with a steady urgency. He pointed a finger at the paper and shook his head. “Trouble. Gonna get ugly. Men gonna strike. Riot.”
James thought of the car that left this morning. Alex had the suitcases. Leonora sat on the passenger side, her head down. He hadn’t looked at them further. He couldn’t look at them together without feeling sick. The Aborigine was watching him and James balled up the paper, balled up the image of Alex and Leonora.
“You want to rest in the shade for a bit?” James asked. “Can give you some tucker for the ride.” He spoke as he would to a white man and the Aborigine relaxed.
“Naw. Gotta get back ’fore the boss wakes up. Drag his arse out ’fore the trouble starts.”
James nodded and the man drove away, his body bouncing in the seat of the lurching, burping old truck.
Tom walked over. “What was that all about?”
“Said there’s going to be trouble in Coolgardie.” James clenched the crumpled paper in his palm, squeezed it until it was small as a pea. “A strike. Came to tell Alex to stay away.”
Tom scoffed, “Och. Sounds like a ghost story to me. Somebody tryin’ to spook him!” Tom smirked then. “Second thought, serve the cocky bastard right to find a little trouble.”
“Leonora’s with him.” The words sounded like a memory.
“You buyin’ it?” Tom paused, didn’t get an answer.
“Got a bad feeling about it, Tom. Something in that bloke’s eyes. Can’t explain it.”
“I can.” Tom smirked. “You miss your girlfriend.” He held his rib with the joke, stretched his arm up to untighten it. “Orright,” he conceded. “Won’t hurt to check it out. Hell, haven’t been to town in months, maybe we can get a good meal out of it.”
Tom’s lips tired with songless whistling as he and James sped through hours on the straight road to Coolgardie. They passed the hacked forest, the dots of stumps appearing black as holes in the falling twilight. The tires followed the embedded wheel ruts of the road and James fought with the steering to keep the car in steady alignment. He flicked on the headlights, a pale light fighting against the gray and sharpening with approaching night. Tom’s bottom slid back on the seat and his back straightened. “You smell that?”
“Something’s burning. Look.” James pointed. In the gray-blue of falling dark rose the matching thin lines of smoke.
“Christ.”
James pressed on the gas and ground the wheels faster. Tom rubbed his forehead. “We got t’think here, James. Orright? We can’t just throw ourselves into this thing.”
“She’s in there, Tom.”
“I know.” His breath came quick and he moved closer to the edge of the seat. “I know, but we got t’think here or we’re gonna get ourselves killed.”
The smoke from Coolgardie grew and blossomed in a venomous cloud. From the east another sky illuminated in red with a glowing swell and then the smoke followed, rougher this time as it competed with the flames. “Aw, Christ. This is bad.”
The car rose up a ridge, brought the first distant view of a lit Coolgardie. Smoke poured and fought with billowy black limbs to crawl higher and higher into the night. Red flames licked at yellow sparks and the town haloed orange in spots. Tom tried to speak, but his lips moved uselessly. He swallowed, then tried again, “It’s all over the place. They don’t know which direction they’re going.”
“Yes, they do.” James’s voice came hard and deep. “They’re circling.”
The car churned toward the heated valley. “Remember where the hotel was?” James asked shortly.
“Yeah. To the left of the depot.”
“We’re going to head out behind the tracks and leave the car, round up by the depot and see if we can get into the hotel.”
In town, the smoke joined and thickened. The headlights struggled to cut through the swirling black. The car flew off the main road onto a horse route and clattered blindly to the tracks. The tires hit a steel line of track, pushed over it. They left the car and pulled their shirts up over their noses, ran toward the buildings spotted with fire. Ears throbbed with the shrill bells of the fire trucks. Breaking glass popped to the hard ground. Men shouted; voices echoed.
James and Tom slunk through a long alley perpendicular to the main street. A fire truck stood lifeless, its hose hacked to pieces, the ladder lying in splinters. They pressed backs against a brick wall and waited as a mob of men, a faceless and crawling beast, rushed down the main road toward the hotel. A man broke from the group like a snapped thread, smashed a wood beam studded with nails into the tires of a dead car, beat the ground until the wood snapped. The air reeked of spilled oil and kerosene. James grabbed Tom’s shirt and pointed to the far wing of the hotel. “We go in the side window.”
One quick breath and then they ran at the hotel, the fourth tier already awash with flames. The back window was smashed and they climbed over the shards of razored glass into the dark and smoky lobby. A few strays of the mob saw the figures and rushed the window, swinging sticks at any moving body. A hit landed to Tom’s lower back and left him stumbling. James and two other men caught who they could and sent them flying through the cut window. New pounding erupted from the front doors while men barricaded the entrance.
In a flash, they were spun and separated by the panicked patrons. “Tom!” James shouted, but his voice was lost. A flame shot from the bar and small explosions followed as the bottles of alcohol erupted. In the flash of light, terror streaked faces, women screamed and men barked orders. James scanned the room between the intermittent illumination and searched for her face. And there was Alex—bobbing under the shooting glass, holding collars and shouting into men’s ears. James plowed through the people and grabbed his arm. “Alex!”
Alex looked up, bewildered.
“Where’s Leo?” James screamed.
Through the chaos, Alex paused, cocked his head, and James wanted to strangle him. “Where’s your wife, goddammit!”
Alex’s face twitched as if slapped, turned tortured. “I can’t find her! She wasn’t with me when the fire broke out.” He grabbed James, frantic as a drowning man. “You’ve got to find her! So help me, I’ll never forgive myself if anything’s happened to her!”
“What floor were you on?” Please don’t be the fourth.
“Second! The whole floor is covered in smoke.”
“All right.” James scanned the room again, rose up slightly. “Listen, Tom’s here, too. Somewhere.”
The street erupted with hand-cranked sirens; a gunshot cracked in the distance. Leonora covered her mouth with a wet towel as the black smoke pillowed under the door. She tried to stay calm, tried to think straight above the terror. She didn’t understand what was happening. One minute she was dressing for dinner, and the next the whole city turned into a war zone. Adrenaline sped her thoughts, made her muscles tight. She fought the urge to curl in the corner, fought the urge to scream for help. No one would hear her. Think, Leonora. She had to keep her mouth closed, keep the smoke from filling her chest. Think.
There was too much smoke in the hallway; she’d have to escape through the window. Holding her breath against the rising poison, she pushed at the windowpane. Her hands slipped with the exertion. She tried again, harder, her nails breaking with the strained grip. A panicked sob left her throat, but she swallowed it. She couldn’t lose it. She had to think. She had to breathe carefully or she’d choke. Her fingers scanned the windowpane. There were nails in the corner. No. The window was nailed shut. She searched the growing and swirling darkness for something to break the window. Nothing. She beat against the glass with her fists. No! The smoke entered her mouth too quickly and she bent with hacking. She found her dropped towel and breathed into the wet fabric.
A woman screamed. A window smashed above or below or all around, the noise coming from every direction. Leonora coughed into the towel, held her ears against the chaos. Her lungs burned. She could die in this room or take her chances with the smoke in the hallway. She mapped out the exit in her mind, would run until it was clear or she collapsed; either way, she couldn’t stay here.
Men’s voices rang in the hallway. Thank God! They would help her. She was getting dizzy, her gait jagged. They could help her get out. Her eyes stung; her lungs gasped for fresh air. They’ll help me. She staggered to the door....
Alex peeked above shoulders. “The police are here, thank God.” The trapped heat was enormous. Perspiration beaded Alex’s face, made it look wet with tears as he yelled at James, “If you find Leonora, take her away. Get her out of here, you hear me!” Another bottle exploded above their heads and they crouched lower. Alex slit his eyes. “Just find her.”
James weaved through the bodies until he found the wide stairs, the top ones nearly invisible with smoke. He plowed to the second floor and hid his mouth in his shirt. The smoke burned at his eyes and he choked into the fabric. A large window was still intact in the hallway and the light from the fires cut a sliver of vision through the choking haze.
“Leo!” he hollered above the sirens. James coughed for oxygen and called out again, “Leo!” His voice grew hoarse and raw, the word inaudible now below the coughing. He stumbled across the empty hall, his eyes clouded and watering. He felt along the wall, the smoke slowing him down, his lungs shrinking.
“Leave her!” a voice spit in the darkness. “Police comin’!”
“Ain’t goin’ till I get whot I came fer!” A rough cough hacked. “Jist need to get ’er fuckin’ skirt off. . . .”
A cold hand wrapped around James’s heart, squeezed. His hand dropped from his nose. The fire, the smoke, disappeared. Blind, he charged the hall.
“Fuck!” A man fled into the smoke. Another gray face looked up from the floor, startled but fierce, his hand inching up a woman’s dress.
James kicked him square under the chin, the thrust of the boot knocking the man flat. Curling to his side, the man tried to rise. James didn’t wait, kicked hard into the ribs so the slumped figure rolled into the black. Now the breath came too fast to James’s lungs and the smoke filled, left him dizzy and clutching for the wall. A dull dragging sound slid up the hall. James tried to follow the men, but his chest convulsed. He pulled his shirt over his mouth, sank to his knees, slid his hands along the floor until he found the woman’s limp leg, his fingertips climbing up her body to her face.
“Leo!” James pulled the wilted body from the space and shook the shoulders. “Leo!”
James grabbed her around the waist and slung his arms under her knees, pressed her to his chest. Her head bounced against his shoulder as he carried her blindly down the steps. He coughed fiercely into his shoulder and slid against the railing. Police were shouting, people were screaming and running out the front lobby, but flames licked half the door. James turned away from the crowd and pushed through a black hall to a wooden locked door, beat it with his shoulder until the hinge cracked, then kicked it open.
The new air smacked him in the face. In the alley, James dropped to his knees, leaned his cheek against her mouth, felt no breath. He pressed his lips against hers, breathed from every pore into her lungs, fought against his own coughing until he had to pull back. Her head flopped to the side, hung over his fingertips.
He ripped the top of her dress, slid her necklace out of the way, dropped her head back and arched her spine. His eyes held to the white stone, focused on it as he filled his lungs with fresh oxygen, then pressed his mouth to hers. Years of loss washed over him, each wave a face, a memory. He blew quicker, harder. No more. “No more!” he ordered, begged between breaths.
James put his mouth upon her parted lips. “I can’t lose you, Leo,” he pleaded between exhales. “I can’t lose you again.”
Leonora’s neck craned and her eyes popped open. She choked, her body spasmed with hacking. James grabbed her head against his body and held her shoulders as she coughed and struggled violently for air. When he heard her inhale, he squeezed his cheek into her hair, kissed her head with quivering lips.
Shouts came from the street, woke him from heart-ripping relief. James didn’t waste another moment and scooped her up, ran for the tracks.
“James!” Tom rushed from the other end, his face bleeding above the eye. “Aw, Gawd, is she orright?”
“She will be. What happened to you?”
Tom touched his head, looked with amazement at the blood on his fingers. “Guess a piece of glass got me.” He wiped his sleeve against the wound carelessly. “I found Alex.”
“Me too.”
“He told me to grab his car. We’ll be right behind you. Just get her out of here.”
James lowered Leonora to the backseat, tried to get her to drink water, but she shook her head, unable to speak between hacking. But she was awake, she was breathing, she was alive. He got into the driver’s seat and drove over the tracks, his eyes on the mirror—on her.
Hours later, when the night sky was quiet and the stars offered the only light, James pulled the car to the front gate of Wanjarri Downs, got out and opened it, sat back into the seat and drove through. He did not stop to close the gate. They hadn’t spoken throughout the journey, only her intermittent and painful dry coughing cut the silence. Now he heard her grab the water, heard her drink it with slow gulps. He pulled over and turned his body, the engine vibrating under the car up through his legs. Leonora’s weak eyes met his. They were tired and bloodshot. Her face and dress smudged in soot.
Relief still gripped his throat. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Are you?” Her voice was raspy, strained.
“I am now.” He took his first full breath. “I’ll get you to the house, then grab the doctor.”
“No.” She clutched the seat. “I don’t need a doctor. Really.” She stifled a cough and lowered her eyes. “Is Alex all right?”
A pit filled his gut. “Yeah.” James turned around, pushed on the gas, stared stonily ahead. “Tom’s bringing him back.”
As James pulled into the drive, he pounded on the horn. After a minute or two, Meredith came fumbling down from the shearing shed fixing her hair and adjusting her blouse. James opened the back door of the car and slid his arm around Leonora’s waist. “I can manage,” she said. James ignored her and scooped her body up easily into his arms, met Meredith at the steps wringing her hands.
“Fer Christ sake!” Meredith quivered. “Whot’s happened?”
“There was rioting in Coolgardie. They burned the hotel.”
“Gawd, no!”
James walked past her. “Make her a cup of hot tea, then run her a bath!” he ordered.
“Right away.”
James carried her agilely up the steps. “I can walk, you know,” she ventured.
“I know.” His jaw was tight, an intensity drawing down the lines of his face.
With his foot James nudged open the bedroom door, and laid her on top of the quilt. He cringed at the space where Alex had slept, where he would sleep. Leonora didn’t miss the look. “He’s not here, James.” He nodded and sat down at the edge of the bed next to her hip.
Meredith clambered up the steps and handed James the tea. “I’ll get that bath ready,” she said, and hurried back down, stern with purpose.
Leonora sipped the hot tea. Each gulp inflamed, then soothed her throat, the lining still raw from coughing. James watched her face as she stared into the tea, watched the tiny movements of her fingers around the mug. His brows pulled in and his whole face frowned. “Sure you don’t need a doctor?” he asked quietly.
“I’m sure.” She placed the mug on the nightstand, the ceramic covered in black smudges.
James stared at the door, his gaze reaching far beyond the room. And his silence rattled her, made her pulse speed. She looked down at her filthy dress, the bottom hem ripped and snagged. Then she turned her palms in her lap, the fingernails black with soot and cracked. “I must be a sight,” she said softly, retreating into the pillows.
He turned to her. “Is this the life you want, Leo?” James asked, his eyes unwavering, the question gruff and urgent.
Her eyes stung, the smoke long gone. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” she whispered.
“How can you say that?” His face twisted. “Damn it, Leo, you matter. You matter to me.” He straightened his spine like he was going to storm out but then turned, took her chin in his hand and kissed her, hard and firm, kissed her like a dying wish. His lips softened and he drew back slightly. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
She grabbed his shirt and pulled him to her mouth. His hand reached into her hair and cradled her scalp as he kissed her and leaned her head farther onto the pillow. She slid her arms around his neck and held him tight against her, let the heat from his body burn through her blood and singe her nerves.
The door slammed from downstairs. “Where is she?” came Alex’s desperate voice.
Leonora pulled away from the kiss, the voice icing her skin.
“Upstairs, sir,” Meredith answered quickly.
Leonora’s eyes leaped to the door. James stared at her lips, lips that weren’t his to kiss, and his face was deep with pain. “I can’t do this anymore, Leo.”
Alex’s footsteps rushed on the floorboards downstairs.
She fumbled for his hand. “Do what?”
“This. See you with him.” He pushed her hand away. “I can’t do it.”
Alex plowed through the door. “Thank God you’re all right!” He grabbed Leonora and hugged her to his chest. She turned her face away from him with a grimace and searched for James. But he was already gone.