I sat looking at the papers around me, stunned. I now understood why this chest was hidden and why Matilda had kept the key protected her entire adult life.
Letter after letter sat opened on my lap. The words Lester Archibald Montgomery had written to Matilda were forever ingrained in my heart.
He’d loved her with all he had, only he belonged to someone else. He had a family, a wife, a child, and a respectable stake in the community.
But he loved her, about that I had no doubt. His words could not be denied. And she loved him too. I only had one half of their conversations in my hand, but from his words it was easy to see Matilda loved him back even though he could never be hers.
Only the papers which had me in a spin were the ones I held in my hand. I studied them, double checking I hadn’t mistaken what I was reading, but the birth certificate did not lie.
John Milton Lockhart
Male
Born January 22nd 1944
Westport General Hospital, Westport
Mother: Matilda Mary Lockhart
Mother’s Age: Twenty years
Father: Unknown
It didn’t take a genius to figure out who the father really was.
Along with the birth certificate were adoption papers which stated the child’s new parents were Milton and Emily Lockhart—Matilda’s brother and his wife, my great grandparents.
The pieces fell into place and I understood why Matilda had an affinity for me. I was her great granddaughter, the first female to have been born into the Lockhart family since Matilda herself.
I leaned back against one of the cardboard boxes, with Clifford curled up on my lap, and I considered the implications to what I’d just read.
Did Ethan know about this? If he did, surely he would have wanted to stop me from learning the truth? After all, with this knowledge he had no chance of ever getting a share in Dun Roamin’. His grandfather was John’s brother, the true child of Milton and Emily. Matilda was only his aunt not a direct ancestor.
Clifford’s ears pricked as a clunk sounded in the distance. Clifford jumped off my legs, but I was too absorbed rereading the last of Lester’s letters to Matilda to bother with him.
In the letter, Lester told Matilda that even though it broke his heart, they could no longer be together. He had to make a choice, and keeping his family together had to be his duty.
Tears pricked my eyes as I thought about how Matilda would have felt, carrying his child, but forbidden to ever tell. I thought of my great grandparents and how they took the child, keeping the Lockhart name and giving it a loving home. Because that I did know. I’d sat on grandpa John’s lap and listened as he recounted the stories of his childhood, of the love his parents had for him and of the bond he had with his younger brother, Malcolm.
Lost in memories of my own childhood I startled as Clifford growled, and started to scratch at the door.
“What’s wrong buddy?”
His hackles were raised as he stared at the gap under the now closed door.
Geez, how long had it been closed? I’d been so lost in thought I hadn’t even heard the wind blow it shut.
Clifford frantically scratched at the chipped, cracked paint, his growling increasing to an aggressive bark.
“It’s okay mate. Calm down.”
The breeze blew under the door, pulling the distinct smell of smoke with it.
This couldn’t be good.
I hurried forwards, turning the handle and yanking it to open, but it wasn’t budging. I tugged harder. Still nothing.
The smoke now billowing in under the door, coupled with the terrifying sound of crackling flames spiked my anxiety. The orange glow contrasted against the night sky quickly filled the window.
I pulled Clifford to the middle of the room and looked around me for a way out. The flames were now destroying the old splintered timber of the window. I screamed as the glass shattered. The smoke thickened, and breathing became difficult. Memories flicked of the day Wally and I had set fire to the sorghum, and how quickly it had spread. This hut was old, dry and a haven for fire and I knew I didn’t have a lot of time before it would be consumed.
I frantically pulled at boxes to get to the back window.
The fire increased intensity and was now roaring. Choking, I desperately gasped for air as black spots danced in front of my eyes. I knew I had to get down low and go, go, go, but there was nowhere to go. Instead I dropped to my knees, pulled Clifford close and held his collar tight.
With a loud buzz, the light bulb died, plunging me into a darkness only lightened by the glowing flames.
Clifford howled, tugging against the hold I had on his collar. The collar broke and he ran toward the window, disappearing into the blaze.
I tried to call his name but choked. The smoke stung my eyes as the flames licked the ceiling. The heat was unbearable, and I covered my face as timber splintered and part of the roof collapsed nearby.
I couldn’t open my eyes anymore and I was losing my battle with breathing. Was it Clifford tugging on my sleeve and barking at me or was I dreaming it? I was getting very sleepy. So sleepy.
“Clifford!” Noah shouted. “Clifford come here!”
Noah’s voice was real. I was sure of that.
I rolled onto my knees as Clifford helped pull me up.
I opened my eyes against the sting to see a dark figure looming above me silhouetted against the fire.
A second later, he had draped a soaked blanket over me and lifted me into his arms.
“Hold on Tilly,” he yelled.
I didn’t need to be told twice. I closed my eyes, buried my nose into his neck and held back the tears.
His body was tense, his heartbeat fast, but he felt strong as we stepped through the heat and the cool night air replaced the thick smoke filling my lungs.
Noah had saved me once again.
I didn’t want to let go, but as he dropped to his knees and carefully laid me on the grass, I had no option.
Noah’s hands patted my clothing as I sat up and coughed, the disgusting taste of smoke filling my mouth.
“Roll over,” he commanded. “Your clothes are on fire and I can’t put it out.”
I squealed as he pushed me backward and then rolled me over, the dewy grass extinguishing the small flames.
Once he was done, he pulled me in to his arms and didn’t let go until I coughed so hard, I thought I may have broken a rib.
“How did you know I was in there?” I asked when he finally let go.
“I didn’t. I went in to save Clifford.” He sat heavily on the grass alongside me. “God, I was terrified when I saw you lying there.”
“You, you went into a burning house to save a dog?” I asked between gasps and coughs.
“Of course, I did.”
“That’s amazing.” I smiled before giving into the wheezing fit.
“You’d do the same,” he said, his hands rubbing my back fast while I shivered. “Are you hurt?” His voice trembled.
“No. I don’t think so.” I looked around us. “Where’s Clifford?”
“I got him,” I heard Wally say as he and Randall ambled up from behind us with Clifford in tow. “That dog saved your life.”
“What do you mean?” I coughed again.
“We were sitting out the back of the house and didn’t know anything about the fire until Clifford came barreling through our flyscreen. Threw himself at it like a mad dog,” Wally said. “I knew something was seriously wrong.”
“He was frantic to get me to follow him,” Noah added, “He smelled of smoke, so I let him lead the way. Then I saw the old hut being consumed with flames and Clifford ran straight into it.”
Wally let go of Clifford who bounded toward me.
I put my arms around him, buried my nose into his blackened fur and gave in to the tears which were spilling. “We need to call the vet. Get him to check that Clifford is okay.” I sniffed, noticing his singed whiskers.
“He’s on his way,” Randall said. “I called him right after I called the rural fire brigade.”
“Noah!”
We all turned to see Doyle hurrying toward us.
“Doyle, you got here quick.” Noah stood to shake his hand.
“I was on my way back to Littlebrook when I heard the call about the fire come over the radio. Is everyone okay?” Doyle asked.
“Pretty much. Tilly was caught in the hut. I’m going to take her to the hospital in Westport in a tick just to get her checked out after the amount of smoke she’s inhaled, but otherwise everyone is okay.”
“That old hut has been a fire waiting to happen,” Doyle mused, his face illuminated by the fire.
The sounds of sirens echoed over the crackling flames and I gave a sigh of relief. The hut was nowhere near any other buildings and Noah kept the grass around here mowed, so the fire posed no more of a threat, but the memory of being inside it would live in my mind for a very long time.
“Have you finished your shift for the night?” I asked Doyle when I noticed he was no longer in uniform.
“Yeah. It’s been a long day, so I called it a night.” He watched the remains of the fire. “I reckon the last of that building is going to collapse any second.”
“It looks like Monty has all the fire out now.” I replied, looking at Noah who was talking to Monty.
Wally and Randall had taken Clifford into their house to try to get him to drink while they waited for the vet, but Doyle wanted me to stay with him to give a statement, explaining how the fire had started before I was taken to be checked out at the hospital.
To be honest, I had no idea how the fire started, but apparently, he needed me to recount tonight’s events anyway.
“Come and sit in my car while we chat,” Doyle said, leading me by the arm. Only when we reached Goatie’s paddock, did I start to question just how far we needed to be from everyone else.
“Where exactly did you park it?” I tripped on a bucket that had been left lying around. “Ouch,” I cursed, stumbling and another coughing fit took hold of me.
“Get up,” growled Doyle, his pleasant tone suddenly replaced by aggression. He pulled me up roughly by the sleeve.
“Hey! Careful!”
“Quiet! Come with me. We need to get away from here.” His menacing tone caused fear to dance across my skin and I dug my heels into the dirt.
“No! What’s going on?” I demanded.
Doyle stood square, his shoulders pulled back and instantly I recognized his silhouette. He was the shooter. The one who had destroyed my front tire.
“You were supposed to die in there.” He covered my mouth with his large calloused hand and lifted me off my feet with an arm around my waist.
I kicked out and squirmed but Doyle was strong, holding me tight and dragging me along as he broke out into a jog, only stopping when we reached his car parked behind one of the sheds.
He released his hold on my mouth, as he opened the car door and tried to push me inside.
“Noah!” I screamed. “Help!”
I lifted my legs and braced my feet against the car, resisting him. He gave an exasperated sigh as he grabbed my hair and dragged me backward. My butt hit the dirt hard.
“Shut up and get in,” he growled, pulling me forwards by the hair. “Or else.”
“Ah!” I cried, grabbing my scalp. “Let me go!”
“Oh, for Christ sake,” he snapped, whipping my head backward. “I said shut up, and I meant it.” Tightening his grip, he fumbled around his belt.
I used the time to get some control before the air filled with the clicking sound of electricity and a searing pain hit my neck. My muscles felt like they were on fire and I dropped to the ground unable to move.
Dazed, I felt Doyle lift me off my feet and throw me into the back of the car.