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9

Love, Fear and Death

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Townsville

March 1887

Months had passed since Sally had first stumbled across Jamie outside the hotel that day in January. She could laugh now at his disapproving face, but it had annoyed her at the time. She’d had enough of men thinking they could control her. But then, he really was quite young. At least he was a hard worker, she’d give him that.

Despite herself, Sally was drawn to Jamie’s freshness and honesty. She still judged him an idiot to have left Brigid for that irrational woman but admired his certainty he was doing the right thing. And he loved those two little girls. Who’d have believed it? A big bloke like him being soppy over a couple of brats. She tried not to think about it – but there were days when her thoughts wouldn’t leave her alone.

For days after their meeting, the papers had been full of the storm that hit Townsville.

But what had scared them both were the reports about the severity of the storm as it travelled south and hit Brisbane. The flash flood had been one of the most damaging the town had seen, with houses floating away and bridges demolished. With no knowledge of the landscape in Brisbane, they couldn’t imagine where Brigid fitted but prayed she was safe. They’d not had a letter in a long while.

Jamie came nearly every day from then on, either to deliver the ice or more often to see if she’d heard from Brigid. The papers continued to talk of the clean-up and the damage the flooding had wreaked upon the business district, but still they heard nothing.

Emily McKendrick had proved to be a good employer – even a friend – and she’d had few enough of those in her life. The bar was thriving and Emily encouraged her ideas, but so far Sally had not found a way of asking if Brigid could be included in her schemes. She didn’t know why it seemed so important that Brigid join her in Townsville and they become a team. It didn’t even make sense. They were as opposite as could be, with different goals.

Brigid was a talented seamstress and lacemaker, but humble and caring. Someone would take advantage of her one day if she wasn’t careful. Someone like that Philip Harrison-Browne. She was too compassionate and too trusting for her own good. Much to her own surprise – and anyone else who knew her, if they’d been able to read her deepest thoughts – Sally was worried.

Unlike Brigid, she wasn’t clever at anything except beguiling people. Oh, yes, she was entertaining. She could make men laugh. She could fleece them at cards and have them come back for more, but she was a loner, even if something was missing. No one would take advantage of her or rip her off. She certainly didn’t want to be considered a do-gooder.

But when Jamie turned up at her door with Maggie, she had little choice. “What the hell am I supposed to do with her?” she berated Jamie as he carried the bruised and battered woman into the hotel kitchen.

“Michael’s been having another go. Can you care for her until she’s strong enough to decide what to do next? And the little ones? I can’t leave them on their own.” Jamie’s eyes looked at her beseechingly.

“Why not? I was left to fend for myself at their age.” Sally remembered only too well the days when her ma was sick and she had to find food, or beg or steal medicine, and avoid a beating from her stepfather.

“Aye. So was I, but at least I had family or neighbours around who would keep an eye on me. Did you not have that?”

Sally barely moved her head. No, she hadn’t. “Ah, all right, then. Let them stay. But don’t expect too much care and attention. And goodness knows what Mrs McKendrick will say when she finds out.”

Emily had been torn. “It’s bad for business to have children hanging around the hotel. The men come here to escape all that. But I can’t see them on the streets, neither, so keep them out of sight and quiet. Else they’ll have to go.”

Sally hated every minute Maggie spent recuperating in her room, but the girls were angels compared with what they’d been on the ship. Whatever had tamed them was a benefit, in the circumstances, but she didn’t like to see them so subdued. They reminded her too much of herself.

At least Maggie wasn’t as changeable as she had been before, but her moroseness affected them all. The girls took her food, which she barely touched, but their appetites were healthy enough, and they willingly helped in the kitchen in return. Even Emily seemed taken with them, coaxing a smile occasionally as she gave them a treat. And Sally was glad when, two days later, Maggie announced she was leaving. No thank you or kiss my foot, she just took the girls by the hand and was gone.

“Hmph! How’s that for gratitude.”

“Don’t judge her too harshly, Sally. That is one very troubled woman doing her best. She’ll crack one day.”

How Emily could see any good in her was beyond Sally’s understanding, but Maggie wasn’t her problem any longer.

Her problem was the increasing advances of one of Emily’s big-spending regulars. Her skin crept whenever he touched her. The same shivery feeling she’d lived with for so long, the one she hoped she’d escaped by coming to Australia to start living again. He’d put his hand on her back, her arm, or tip her chin so she would look at him every time he came to the bar. He laughed and teased, and told his companions what a beauty she was and a wonderful asset. He was ebullient and public with his praise and attentions, but his whispered requests to join her in her room were becoming insistent – and threatening.

To add to the problem, he was a well-respected man about town. He entertained and was entertained by the leaders of the community. He attended all the soirées, receptions and dinner functions. He was a hard-nosed businessman – and he always got his way.

She’d beaten him at cards – more than once – and he’d not forgotten or forgiven. After the last time, he threatened to expose her if she didn’t meet his request.

“Aw, now you wouldn’t want me to lose my job, would you? Mrs McKendrick is very particular about what goes on in her establishment. She’s made it plain, she has. No men upstairs.”

“I’ll set you up somewhere discreet if that is what you want.”

“You flatter me, Mr Carruthers, but I’m just a small-town girl working for a living. I’m not grand enough to be a mistress. Let me get you a drink.” She extricated herself from the conversation.

But the next time he returned, he tried again. “You won’t have to work any more. A woman like you shouldn’t have to work.” He smiled, raised his glass, laughed; pretended they were having a casual, but amusing interchange.

“But I like my work. I like singing, and being charming to you and your friends, and entertaining you all. There are others more suited to what you have in mind.” She hoped he couldn’t sense her fear or revulsion.

The smile never left his face, but his eyes hardened. “You thought you could cheat me and play me for a fool. Nobody does that to me, especially not publicly. It’s time for you to pay.”

Keeping up the play of a friendly chat, she rested her hand on his shoulder. “No, Mr Carruthers. You’ve got it all wrong. I’m sorry you lost, but it was just a card game. I didn’t take your money. I didn’t cheat you at all.”

He laughed again, held her upper arm between his thumb and forefinger, and squeezed the soft part. She gritted her teeth against the pain and tried to keep the smile on her face.

“I don’t believe you. Think hard about your decision. Think very hard.” He released her arm. “The police might be interested in your methods.” He stood then, picked up his glass and strolled across the room to join some others at another table.

She knew her ordeal wasn’t over.

* * *

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Tuesday, 26th April 1887

“Jamie. Jamie. Come quick.” Laura barrelled into him, hands grasping at his jacket, and tried to pull him after her.

Jamie grabbed hold of her wrists. “Slow down, Laura. What’s the matter?”

“You’ve got to come, Jamie. It’s Maggie.”

His heart sank. Not again! He knew what was happening, and it was becoming far too common for his liking. With barely an excuse to his boss, Jamie hurried Laura outside and headed towards their place.

Last month, he’d found Maggie unconscious on the floor of her cottage with little Jane sitting quietly beside her, smoothing her hair from her face. The child was as pale as a ghost and her blotchy, cried-out face was striped where the tears had washed the dirt away. Sally had helped him then. As he laid Maggie on Sally’s bed, he had prayed for strength to stay away from Michael. Fortunately, Laura said he’d gone away again.

What upset Jamie most was that Maggie returned to the cottage once she had recovered sufficiently. “I have to Jamie. I don’t have a choice. He’s my brother, but I can’t let him bash the girls like that.”

Somewhere along the way, the flighty, half-baked, emotional Maggie he was used to had turned into a tigress since Michael had started taking his frustrations out on the girls, after being beaten in another fight. She was used to him hitting her when things went wrong, but until recently the girls had been safe.

Jamie had heard Michael was losing more fights – and money – than he won lately and was drinking heavily. He’d also been warned he would lose his job if he didn’t shape up.

“I hid Jane so I could get here faster,” Laura explained, “but I fear it’s bad. Pa just wouldn’t let up, but Maggie took to him.” Despite being only ten, Laura was tough. There were no tears, just a fierce look on her face as she skipped and ran along beside him.

“What? What do you mean ‘took to him’? How? With what?”

Jamie lengthened his stride and soon left Laura lagging behind. She tried to catch up and, between breaths, answer his questions.

“He slapped Jane ... she fell ... I tried to pick her up ... Kicked me ... Hit Maggie.”

Jamie stopped in his tracks and turned to look at the girl. He gripped her by both arms but instantly let go when she winced. She had a cut above her eye, and her lip was cracked. She rubbed her lower back, and only then did Jamie see the bruises on her legs and guessed there were more under her clothes. His anger flared as he gingerly wrapped his arms around the girl and lifted her up.

“What happened next, beag amháin? Tell me, little one.”

Head buried in his shoulder and arms wrapped around his neck, Laura murmured into his ear. “Maggie picked up the long poker and jabbed it at him to push him away. She told me to go, so I ran outside with Jane. I could hear things breaking and falling over, and him shouting and her screaming. It was worse than the banshees at night.”

Keeping his voice light, Jamie eased his arm slightly and tried to look at her face. “What, a big girl like you still believing in the banshees? Never!”

“But then it went all silent like, and I was even more scairt. I left Jane hid in the bushes and crept back to see. Maggie was lying on the floor. I couldn’t see Pa.”

Fear clutched Jamie’s stomach. One day, he swore. One day he’d put paid to that monster. “Well. Let’s go see how Maggie is, shall we? Sure all will be grand when we get there.” He wasn’t convinced, but he needed to give Laura hope.

Minutes later they arrived at the house and, wanting to go inside alone, Jamie told Laura, “Go and find Jane now, and make sure she is all right. Wash yer faces maybe and then come find me. Wait outside, though, till I give you the nod. Aye?”

Laura nodded and he lowered her to the ground and watched her pick her way across the long grass to find her sister.

The door was shut and he couldn’t hear any movement from inside. He pushed it open. The squeak of the leather hinges sent a shiver up his spine. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the interior until a dark shape in the middle of the room moved as the sunlight streamed in. A groan. Jamie’s heart lifted. He darted forward, righting overturned furniture in the way. He knelt on one knee beside her and raised Maggie into a sitting position. “Maggie, love. I’m that glad to see you.” He rested his head gently on top of hers and held her close.

“Michael,” she croaked.

“Never mind him! I hope the bastard’s gone for good this time.”

Her hand fluttered, but her eyes closed as she passed out again.

Jamie put his other arm under her legs and lifted her up. He turned, stumbling, shocked by what he saw, and nearly lost his hold on her.

With his foot, he restored the wooden settle to its feet next to the fireplace and laid Maggie down. He knelt once more – this time beside the prone body of Michael. He could tell at a glance the man was dead. His forehead was split open, a pool of blood oozed over the wooden floor. Flies were already buzzing around the wound, but Jamie was certain the blood hadn’t come from there.

He looked to and fro between Maggie and Michael, wondering how she had managed to hit him that hard. He had no doubt she had swung the blow and felt no remorse, he was glad. The problem now was how to get her away from there without getting the police involved. Murder was murder in their eyes, never mind the provocation.

He had to act quickly in case any neighbours began to get suspicious. He was up on his feet and back outside, pulling the door shut behind him, intent on finding the girls before they could see what he’d seen. He found them coming through the tangle of broken fences and bush into the back corner of the garden as he walked around the other side of the house.

“Ah, there you are, now. Don’t cry, Jane. Everything is grand, aye. Maggie is sleeping right now.” He turned to Laura, questions written in her eyes. “She’s not hurt bad, so don’t you be fretting none. All will be well, I promise, but I need you to do something for me. Will you do what I say?”

Laura nodded again.

“I need you to go to Sally. Tell her I’m with Maggie, ask her to come see me – and she’s to come in the cart. Understand? But you two are to stay at the hotel. Do you hear me now? You are to stay. I’ll be right vexed if you don’t, and you don’t like it when I’m vexed with ye, do you?”

Both girls shook their heads. Solemn. Silent. Trusting.

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Jamie nearly scared the living wits out of Sally when he leapt out of his hiding place and jumped on the back of the cart.

“Christ Almighty! You great galoot. You gave me such a fright!” Sally didn’t pull any punches when her dander was up. “What the blazes is going on, Jamie?”

“Sorry, I didn’t want anyone to see me.” He sat down, his feet dangling over the back as if they had been travelling together for some time. “We need to go visiting. Or rather look as though we are going visiting. I need your help.”

Jamie explained what she would find when they got to Maggie’s cottage and waited for her reply. If he’d read the situation right, Sally would support him and help Maggie. If not, they were on their way to the police station.

“And you’re sure it was Maggie?”

“Aye, I am.”

Sally didn’t reply.

The cart bounced and swayed along the rutted roadway, kicking up a cloud of dust that soon had Jamie coughing.

While he’d waited for Sally, he sat watching Maggie, anger bubbling inside him at the sight of her. He had another go at cleaning up the bloodstain to make sure he left no trace. When Maggie stirred, he gave her some water and bathed her head and eventually managed to get her to sit up. She stared at Michael’s body now covered with the only item Jamie had found that was large enough – the patchwork quilt off her bed.

Staring into a void only she could see, bit by bit she told him what she could remember. “When he kicked Laura like that, it was the last straw. I saw red. I grabbed the poker from the fire. It was still hot at the end, and one touch with it and he leapt back, which gave the girls time to run. Did I do it, Jamie? Did I really kill him?” Maggie sounded so forlorn it nearly broke his heart.

“I don’t know for sure, mo ghrá ... Tell me your story, my love.” Jamie held her hand and waited.

“I’ve seen him lose his temper before, but nothing like this. He hurled whatever he could lay his hands on at me and then started to throw the furniture around. I kept jabbing at him to keep him away from me. The stool hit me on the side of the head.”

Maggie stopped and rubbed her temple. A frown creased her brow. She tilted her head to one side. “I don’t remember much after that. Lots of noise ... Oh, I remember having a knife in my other hand at some stage, but I don’t know how it got there or what I did with it. Did I stab him?”

Jamie shook his head, certain this time. “No. You didn’t. You’d remember if you had. The crack over the head was enough. It laid him out, but I reckon hitting his head on the firebricks is what did him in in the end. Not you. Do you understand? He fell and banged his head.”

Maggie nodded.

There had been a lot of blood, and wanting to clean it up as best he could while she was still asleep, he’d turned the head and saw a bloodied mess where Michael had hit the corner of a brick as he’d fallen. Not that that would matter to the police. While she hadn’t meant to kill him, he was still dead.

“I don’t know how long we edged around each other, but he started coming at me again, with something in his hand. The axe maybe, or the maul. I was sure I was done for, Jamie. The crazed look in his eyes really scared me. I must have dropped the knife then because I remember grasping the poker with two hands. I raised it above my head. I even heard the swish in the air as I brought it down. Then ... a terrible bellow, a jarring in my shoulders.” Tears trickled unnoticed down her face and neck. “I don’t know what happened after that. Not until I woke up and you were here.”

Jamie nestled her into his shoulders and rocked her. “Hush now, my love. That’s enough. I found you. That’s all that matters.”

He murmured his plans and made her lie down again and sleep while he went to talk to Sally. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.”

By the time Sally drew the reins back, halting the horse outside the cottage, Jamie was whistling songs from the old country and acting like he’d had too much to drink.

“Maggie. Are ye there, Maggie?” shouted Sally as she peeled off her gloves and strode towards the door. “I’ve brought someone to see you. You’ll never guess who. It’s our friend from the ship, it is. I thought we’d go for a picnic. Why don’t you join us?”

She reached the door and knocked loudly, looking around to see if anyone in the street had seen her. The unusual and noisy arrival of the buggy up the narrow lane had attracted some attention from the house away to the right. The woman had come outside to see what the commotion was, and someone in the house over the back closed a window with a bang.

Satisfied, Sally nodded towards Jamie leaning against the wheel of the cart – hands in pockets, feet crossed, looking as relaxed as he could. She opened the door and disappeared inside.

“I’ve underestimated you, Jamie, me lad,” she said, as she surveyed the mess inside. “How on earth did you come up with your plan so fast?”

“Maggie, wake up,” Sally said quietly, as she shook Maggie by the shoulder. “Come on, wake up. We’ve got to go.”

Maggie sat up slowly, ran her hands over her face and rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her head. She started to sweep the hair back from her face, but Sally stalled her. “Leave it loose.”

“Now listen carefully,” Sally continued. “Remember you are supposed to be sick. You’ve got the fever. So lean on me and I’ll help you to the cart. Don’t do too much yourself.”

Maggie attempted a weak smile. “That won’t be hard. My legs don’t feel like they could hold me up anyway.”

Sally put her finger to her lips to tell Maggie to be quiet and went to the door. “Paddy!” she cried, inventing a name, her voice shrill with alarm. “Paddy. Stop slouching and come and help me. There’s sickness inside. We have to get them to a doctor.”

Jamie straightened and pulled his hands from his pockets but didn’t move. He shouted back. “What is it? I don’t want to catch nothing.”

“Fever. But don’t you argue with me, young man. Get in here and give me a hand. I’ll help the woman, she’s still on her feet – just – but you’ll have to carry the bloke.”

“Carry him!” Jamie sounded indignant.

“Well, if you don’t think you are capable of doing it, then go get someone who is.” She slammed the door shut.

“Are you saying I’m not up to it,” he shouted. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you what I’m ... cab-apple ...” He pretended to stagger. “Um, cab-a-bul ... What I can do. You’ll see.”

Moments later, he too had entered the house.

He righted the rest of the furniture, and between them they returned the place to some semblance of order. Broken bits of furniture he threw on the fire and fanned the blaze. Sally swept up the broken china and stowed it in her carry bag. “Jamie,” she said partway through the sweeping, “I’ve not found a knife or the poker.” She turned to Maggie. “Are you sure about what you did?”

“Aye. No. At least, I’m sure I had the poker. But I have no memory of what I did with it.”

“The fire axe and maul aren’t here either,” added Jamie, searching the fire surround and floor.

Sally put her broom away, and cast her eye about the room. “It’ll do. Some mess should be expected if they’ve been sick, and we haven’t time to worry about anything else for now. We have to get these two out of here before the nosy neighbours start asking questions.”

She gathered her bag and put her gloves on again before helping Maggie to her feet. “Let’s go.”

Jamie wrapped a shawl around Maggie’s shoulders and Sally guided her out the door and along the earthen track to the cart. “There there, dear. Not far now.” She spoke loudly. “That’s it. One step at a time. I’m here.”

Once there, Sally climbed into the cart first and then pulled Maggie up. “I’ll just get your hat. Won’t be long,” she said and jumped down again, hurrying back inside.

Jamie had managed to pull Michael over his shoulder where he hung like a slab of meat, arms and legs dangling on either side. Sally breathed a sigh of relief that no fresh blood oozed, and draped a jacket over Jamie’s shoulders to hide Michael’s head. She picked up the patchwork quilt, took Maggie’s hat from its peg and followed Jamie out the door.

Slipping back into her persona as the loud and bossy woman who had arrived at the cottage ready for a picnic, she berated Jamie all the way to the cart. “Be careful, you great clod. Fancy carrying the poor man like that. He’s ill, I tell you. Ill. Let me put the quilt over him. It’ll help stop the shivering.”

As soon as Jamie lowered Michael onto the cart Sally flicked the cover over him. Jamie jumped on the back again, in the same position as he’d arrived, and with a snap of the reins, Sally turned the horse in the direction of town.

Once they were out of sight of any of the neighbouring houses, Sally turned the buggy north, then west, and headed inland away from civilisation. For a while, at least, they would look as if they were going on an outing, but once they turned off the thoroughfare onto a byway, their progress soon became precarious.

“The horse is having a hard time of it already, and the cart’s not built for this sort of terrain, Jamie,” said Sally as they bucked around on the hard, uneven surface littered with stones. “What’ll we do now?”

“The horse will manage, just take it slow. Let him choose his path. There’s been a bullock wagon up here at some stage so we should be able to get further along yet. We need to get a little higher, but not too far. Keep your eyes peeled for a ravine or crevice in some rocks.”

Maggie had not spoken a word since they’d left the cottage. Sally glanced at her and saw her eyes widen at Jamie’s words, but otherwise she showed no sign of having heard, let alone having any interest in what they were doing.

The torrential rains and high temperatures of January and February had gone and lessened with each passing month. The late April day held promise for a pleasant month ahead, weather-wise, much cooler and far less wet than anything else they’d experienced so far. The tussock grass looked fresh and was dotted with green shrubbery. Numerous gum trees wavered in the current of air. It would have been a perfect day for a picnic if they hadn’t been carrying such a burden.

Wildlife scattered as they advanced, the vibrations of the bush the only sounds they heard. A kookaburra laughed, and parrots and galahs squawked. No human eyes followed. They let the horse meander where it could find a path, alongside a stream and small lake until a rocky outcrop appeared.

Sally and Jamie clambered down from the cart and climbed the hill to the side of the rock face until they came to a plateau. The view was astonishing. The expanse of red and gold, dotted with dusky greens and browns went on as far as the eye could see. In the distance, vague wisps in the sky indicated where Townsville would be.

“I hadn’t realised we’d come so far,” said Sally. “It’ll be nigh on dark when we get back.”

“All the better. We can say we got lost, if we’re asked.”

Maggie, who had not moved when Sally had invited her to come with them, now appeared by her side. She seemed drawn to the majestic wilderness and moved closer and closer to the edge.

“Don’t go any nearer, Maggie. Maggie! Stop. Please.” Sally tried to keep the panic from her voice. “You’re making my stomach tingle.” She inched towards Maggie and gently took her arm, tugging her back safely from the edge. They stood arm in arm in awe of their surroundings.

Meanwhile, Jamie fossicked for a place where, if a person were to fall, the body would tumble against the rocks on its way down. He’d not told Maggie what he intended, but Sally had guessed. Jamie needed to make this look like an accident, should anyone ever find the body. The task wasn’t easy – but the man was already dead, so he could do him no further harm.

As quietly as possible, but whistling to cover any sounds, Jamie dragged Michael’s body off the cart. His whistle rang in the vast openness, but he kept going. Out of sight of the two women, he rolled the corpse towards the edge where the slag was loose and it would be possible to lose your footing. About to push him over the edge, he stopped. Maggie and Sally shouldn’t hear it. Not up close anyway – and even he couldn’t do it without saying at least some sort of prayer first.

Dear Lord, help me. Time was running out. How long could Sally keep Maggie up there? Maybe it would be better to get the two of them to start back ahead of him. They’d still hear it, but less so from further away.

He ripped a few small branches off the nearby bush and laid them on top of Michael lying in the shadow of the rocks – partly to obscure the body, and partly to make it appear as if the man might have grabbed at them to save himself as he fell.

“Sally. It’s getting late. I think we should be getting back now. Turn the buggy around, will you, and move down the track a-ways. I’ll help Maggie.”

A look passed between them. Sally did as she was bid while Jamie took Maggie’s arm and walked beside her towards the cart, talking all the while.

“Now you go with Sally, there’s a love. You should be getting back to the girls now. They’ll be sore worried, and Sally will take real good care of you. I’ll be right behind you, that I will. I can walk faster than the horse can pull its load on this ground. So don’t you be fretting now.”

With her eyes firmly fixed on the treetops, Maggie appeared unaware of anything Jamie had said, or of the risk he was taking to save her.

“There. Right as rain now, you are.” Maggie was once again seated on the cart, and he hoped she wouldn’t look behind. “Off you go now, both of you. Let the horse do the work, Sally. I’ll catch up.”

Sally’s eyes were like balls of glass, shiny, knowing. She nodded, unable to raise a smile.

Jamie slapped the horse’s rump. “Hup. Get along now.” He watched as they jiggled and bounced along the track.

He climbed back up the hill and stood on the plateau, staring into the vastness, hat held against his chest. Prayers for the dead, from childhood, came back to him, and he silently mouthed them into the sky. When he was convinced the women would be far enough away, he crossed himself, shoved his hat on and scooted down to where he’d left Michael’s body. Without hesitation, he pushed it over the edge. He didn’t stop to watch it fall. He ran.

Above the clump-clump of his footfall, he could hear the sounds of stones rattling, branches snapping, birds squawking as they took flight, and the thuds as Michael crashed and bounced against rocks and trees. The echo rebounded around him and in his head. His blood pounded and his breath came in gasps as he tried to escape the inescapable images in his mind.