By the time Lettie woke the following morning the sun was high and every muscle in her body screamed. Not only that, Oxley had vanished. He’d spent the night curled against her back providing a welcome security. She eased her way down the ladder from the hayloft and stumbled outside hoping against hope Nathaniel wouldn’t notice her lopsided gait.
The old man sat, as he had last night, in front of the fire, his gnarled fingers wrapped around a steaming tin mug, Oxley at his feet. ‘Tea?’ Without waiting for an answer, he poured her a cup, ladled in a heap of sugar and handed it over.
Not game to abuse her muscles any more she remained standing, sipping the brew. When they’d arrived last night, she’d paid very little attention to the property. Neat as a pin, the slab cottage stood central, the barn where she’d spent the night flanking the right-hand side and a workshop, the doors wide open, on the left. Rows of blackened tools hung from the rafters. All settled and neat as though it had stood forever. ‘Have you been here long?’
‘Twenty and a bit years. Once I gave up droving I moved up here with Nathaniel. Got a good little business going. Aberdeen’s on the stock route. Everyone needs a blacksmith at one time or another.’
Over twenty years ago … Nathaniel could only have been a boy. Almost as long as Evie had been missing. What Lettie wouldn’t give to be following in her footsteps a few days after she’d disappeared. It was too long. Evie would no longer be a girl, even though Olivia thought of her as such, she’d be a middle-aged woman, married with children, grandchildren maybe. But if that was the case why hadn’t she gone home or at least let Olivia know where she was? ‘Where’s Nathaniel?’
‘Left. Decided to get the milk train to Singleton, pick up a horse there. Planning to get to Sydney in two days. Don’t like his chances but we’ll see. Coming to your rescue put him back a bit.’
It hadn’t crossed her mind to question why Nathaniel had been on the road, or whether he had time to rescue her and bring her back here. ‘I’m sorry. Why didn’t he say something?’
‘And do what? Leave you sitting up to your neck in the creek for the night?’
‘I wasn’t up to my neck …’ Her words petered out as she caught the look on Denman’s face. ‘I could have walked back to Muswellbrook.’
‘Bit of a trek.’
‘I didn’t thank Nathaniel.’ A flush flew to her cheeks. She couldn’t rid herself of the suspicion that he had been aware of the way her body had reacted to his closeness.
‘He’ll get over it. And Olivia will know where you are. He’ll call in on his way past. Can’t have the old girl worried.’
Old girl! Denman looked a darn sight older than Olivia with his heavily etched face, long ears and flyaway hair. ‘You know Aunt Olivia?’
He flicked the remains of his tea beyond the fire. ‘Well enough. All the drovers do. Been passing through since I was a boy. Sorry business, Evie disappearing.’ He gave Oxley’s ears a rub and leant back.
Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Her mind darted back to the night at Yellow Rock, Olivia’s swirling skirts and ribald laughter, her familiarity with the drovers and the sheer pleasure on her face when they arrived. And Nathaniel, the dances they’d shared, and last night. She lifted her hands to her warm cheeks. ‘And you knew Evie?’
‘We all knew Evie. Lovely little thing, always with her paints and pencils.’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘Joined in the search, we all did. Never found her.’
Well perhaps, just perhaps she might find some answers …
‘Reckon it’s too late now.’
Surely he didn’t believe that the rock had taken Evie. If she’d come to grief close to home someone would have found her remains by now. The hairs on the back of her neck rose to meet the memory of the strange sensation she’d felt when she’d stood on the top of the rock looking out over the vast plains, and the dream, the dream she’d had the night before she’d found Evie’s dress on the chair beside her bed.
‘Enough of this nonsense.’ Denman rose as if sensing her retrospection. ‘I’ll hitch up the wagon and we’ll see about this motor of yours. I’ve a mind to bring it back here. Always wanted the chance to have a close look at one of them.’
Except that wasn’t what she wanted to do. She’d far rather go to Dartbrook. See if she could find out any more about Andrew Hume and why Evie had been interested in him. Heavens alone knew where the answers lay. Never mind the answers, the questions. She wouldn’t need any help fixing the car, she was confident Thorne’s lessons would hold her in good stead. She had a tyre repair kit and beneath the back seat a jack, pliers, spanners, a hammer, a tyre pump and all manner of other bits and pieces.
‘Can we come back via Dartbrook? You said it was down the road a bit.’
‘You’ll get a fly up your arse if you’re seen with me.’
Which was all very strange. She tipped her head, not sure how to ask the question. She didn’t need to.
‘Bad blood. We’ll get your motor out first then you can go and have a word.’
With a thoughtfully provided saddle blanket beneath her fragile backside and Oxley jammed between her and Denman, Lettie settled back to enjoy the unfolding panorama she’d missed cradled in front of Nathaniel in the dark the previous night.
The journey to the creek where poor Lizzie lay marooned was slow and tedious but the heavy carthorses didn’t miss a beat and Denman made no effort to increase their pace. For the first few miles he sat sucking quietly on his pipe, his eyes following every deviation in the track. It wasn’t until they reached a large expanse of unfolding paddocks that he spoke, his voice a low rumble.
‘Rossgole. Two hundred acres give or take, every one of them good soil, well grassed. Young Nathaniel’s always wanted a part of it. Felt a connection to the place. Could call it his life’s dream. Once he gets back from the auction in Sydney with the paperwork all signed and sealed we’ll be making the move. Has a mind to put his name to stud stock, settle down.’ His hand swept out in a wide arc. ‘Be in the next few weeks.’
So that was why Nathaniel had to be in Sydney. Heat rose to her face. ‘Why didn’t he tell me? Will he get to Sydney in time?’
‘He’ll give it his best shot.’
‘I wish I’d known but I couldn’t go back with him. I couldn’t leave the motor.’
‘All turned out for the best. It’ll be fine.’
‘I hope so. What about your blacksmith shop?’ She couldn’t imagine he’d get much business this far from town.
‘Comes a time for a man to slow down. Unless I can get meself one of these motors. Denman, the Travelling Blacksmith. Has a nice ring. Like one of them circuses, now that’d be the go.’
She shot a look at him from under her lashes. Sitting this close to him in the bright sunlight the map of wrinkles on his weathered face pointed to a hard life. How old was he? She chewed her lips wondering if she dared ask and thought better of it. What business was it of hers, only idle curiosity, nothing more.
‘I reckon I’ve done me time. Years in the saddle, droving, then me blacksmith shop. Know just about every stockman and drover who’s travelled these parts and most of the bullockies, everyone calls into the blacksmith shop.’
Lettie fidgeted on the seat, taking the weight off her sore muscles. ‘Did you ever come across Andrew Hume?’
‘Hume? Not right sure. Why do you ask?’
‘He grew up at Dartbrook. His father was the overseer on Hall’s property in the 1840s.’
‘Let me see. That’s going back a bit. Memory’s not what it used to be. Me dad was a drover up this way, before my time.’
There was something about the way he sucked on his pipe and stared into the distance that made Lettie push on. ‘His mother and father moved to Maitland, but Andrew didn’t go with them.’
‘Oh! I’ve got it now. Hall’s place. Where they bred the blue heelers, cattle dogs. The boy that went bush. Then got himself into a heap of trouble. Came up before the court. Stealing a horse, brandishing a gun. Probably threw away the key.’
And that proved she was on the right track. There couldn’t be two Andrew Humes who’d been arrested for bushranging. ‘Why don’t you want to go to Dartbrook?’
He shrugged, ‘Like I said, bad blood.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing you need worry your head about.’
Nathaniel cantered through Broke, his mind swirling. Denman’s idea about the milk train had been a good one. It had got him to Singleton in a fraction of the time it would have taken on horseback and he’d pulled in a few favours and borrowed a halfway decent horse. Shame he couldn’t have taken the train all the way to Sydney, but like Denman said, Olivia couldn’t be left wondering.
He’d got no time to hang around, just long enough to let Olivia know Lettie hadn’t come to harm. Well not much. More dented pride than anything else, he’d guess. Quite why she wanted to go to Dartbrook he’d no idea. Still he’d leave that to Denman to sort out when, or if, they got the motor out. He’d been too blindsided by the feel of her in his arms; dancing was enough, a ride down the mountain in the moonlight would turn any man’s senses.
When he pulled into Yellow Rock he found Olivia pacing the driveway like a marauding goose. She flapped her arms at him and he slammed to a halt.
‘Thank God you’re here. I need help. I’ve lost Lettie.’ Her face crumpled and for an awful moment he thought she was going to burst into tears. He wasn’t good with women, never mind a crying woman.
He swung down from his horse. ‘She’s fine. Had a bit of an accident, that’s all.’
‘What kind of an accident? How badly hurt is she? My horse is saddled and I’ve got supplies packed. What are you waiting for?’ She spun on her heel.
‘Olivia, wait up.’
‘If you’re going to tell me something I don’t want to hear you can keep it to yourself.’ She threw the words over her shoulder and bolted towards the stables.
Women! What was it about them? No doubting Olivia and Lettie’s relationship because they sure as shit wouldn’t take no for an answer. ‘Olivia!’ There must have been something in his tone of voice because she came to a halt and turned slowly, almost flinching, bracing herself for the worst. He sucked in a fortifying breath. ‘Lettie is perfectly fine, suffering nothing more than a sore bum last time I saw her.’
‘You better not have been looking too closely at her bum or you’ll have me to answer to.’
‘Are you going to listen to what I’ve got to say or shall I leave? I’ve got to get to Sydney. It’s the Rossgole auction tomorrow afternoon and I’ve got no intention of missing it. Waited too long.’ There, it was said. ‘Lettie was driving up to Dartbrook, the Halls’ old place …’
‘What … She was going to Maitland.’
‘Don’t ask me. I don’t know. She took the back road from Muswellbrook, setting sun blinded her, one of the culverts was under water and she ran off the road. I was on my way down to Sydney and found her. Took her back to Denman’s. He’s going to give her a hand to tow the motor out. If she can get it going she’ll be back with you tomorrow night earliest.’ There, he’d managed to get it out.
‘Denman’ll see her right.’ The beginning of a smile tilted her lips and then a frown crossed her forehead. ‘He will, won’t he?’
‘Course he will. And I’ll be back through at the end of the week. If there’s any problems we can sort them out then. I’ve got to go.’
‘Stay and have something, a cup of tea?’
‘I haven’t got time. You’re just going to have to trust me on this one.’
‘You’re a good lad, Nathaniel.’ She reached up and patted his thigh. ‘Let’s get you a change of horse. That one looks as though it’s due for the knacker’s yard. You can take Raven. He’s ready and waiting, I was about to leave when you arrived.’
Blimey. He must have done something right. Olivia didn’t part with her horse for anyone. ‘Thanks. That would be great. I got the milk train down from Aberdeen and borrowed this nag from the bloke at the Caledonian.’
‘I’ll get someone to take it back. There’s a stallion to pick up at Randwick and see if you can get a message to Rawlings, let him know Lettie’s still here and she’s all right. It’ll keep Miriam off my back.’ Her face flushed. ‘Lettie will be back here by the time you get there, won’t she?’
‘I’m sure she will.’ He turned to unsaddle the Singleton horse.
‘Leave that for me. I’m not totally useless. Take care, and good luck. You deserve that property. It’s got your name written all over it.’
He swung back up into the saddle. ‘I hope so.’ Lifting his hand in a wave he thundered down the drive relishing the feel of a decent horse beneath him.
While Denman’s horses made good work of the final miles, Lettie scanned the road ahead for any sign of the car. She recognised little of the track from the night before, most likely because she’d had her eyes tightly closed and had spent the time praying she’d live to tell the tale.
Finally they rolled down the hill and there, tucked askew over the edge of the culvert, lay poor Lizzie.
‘Did a good job of that, didn’t you?’ Denman slowed the wagon and she jumped down before he’d come to a standstill. In the harsh sunlight the mess she’d got herself into became obvious. What had she been thinking? The road she’d careered down pitched at an alarming angle and the water across the culvert almost reached her knees. Oxley studied the car then looked at her and whined. ‘I made a right mess of that, didn’t I?’ She picked her way over the boulders. One of the wheels looked horribly bent and the tyre on another mangled. The one remaining lamp drooped at a precarious angle and the other lay forlorn on the back seat. There was a three-cornered tear in the canvas roof and several of the struts dangled, throwing it out of alignment.
She edged closer, eyeing the collection of crumpled metal she’d fished from the creek and thrown into the back. Nathaniel’s saddle was squashed behind the front seats, the water lapping the sides. The blanket she’d wrapped herself in hung forlornly on the branch of the tree above the hollow where she’d imagined she’d spend the night. She let out a relieved breath. Thank goodness Nathaniel had stumbled across her. Though he hadn’t done much stumbling. She was the guilty one. And she’d hardly thanked him. Instead bitten his head off and complained vociferously.
Denman stood, head tipped to one side, surveying the disaster. ‘Shouldn’t be too much of a problem getting her out. Don’t know about those wheels though. I’ll unhitch the wagon and we’ll run the ropes around the back of the motor. I reckon the horses can pull it out in no time.’
‘I can manage the wheels, as long as the axle isn’t broken. If you’ve got a saw, we can take the broken spindle out. It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ve got a spare, a tyre pump and another inner tube.’
‘And what would that be.’
‘It’s the—’
He waved his hands at her. ‘Explain later. Let’s get her back on the track first.’
It took an eternity before they recovered Lizzie, somewhat forlorn but on all four wheels. Denman had unhitched the horses from the wagon, anchored and buckled all kinds of leather straps and as gently as if they were dealing with a wounded animal, the two carthorses eased poor Lizzie from the creek with less bumping and grinding than Lettie had caused when she’d run off the culvert.
Lettie paced around the car checking the damage. The wheels were the only major problem and the possibility motor spirit might have leaked but there was very little smell and the two full cans remained strapped to the back. There’d be the question of the carburettor and the spark plugs but they were easy enough to dry and clean. Thorne kept a neat little steel brush for that job, one she’d done many times.
Under Denman’s watchful eyes she unpacked the tool kit from under the back seat and set everything out in neat lines as Thorne had always insisted.
‘Looks like you might have an idea of what you’re doing. Good job someone had faith in you. Nathaniel would have had you tucked up back with Olivia by now and this poor old girl would be rusting away.’ He leant over and lifted Nathaniel’s saddle from behind the seats, dusted it down and placed it in the wagon along with her knapsack, then wandered back and pulled out the lamp from the back seat. ‘Nothing that can’t be fixed. Do this when we get back. Now what about all these other bits and pieces you found.’
Lettie allowed his voice to wash over her while she jacked up the car and removed the tyre. All the while Denman puttered around in the creek swishing his hands in the water. ‘Looking for gold?’ she asked, lifting her head from fitting the new inner tube.
‘Nah! Interesting the stuff that washes down when we’ve had a bit of rain.’ He pulled out a worn piece of timber, the edges blackened. ‘Can’t remember a bushfire through here. Though that tree up there on the bank looks as though it’s been through a fire once upon a time.’ He smoothed the piece of wood then lobbed it back up the hill.
It wasn’t until she’d refitted the wheels and she stood to brush the dirt from her knees that she noticed how quiet Denman had become. He stood, his thick, scarred fingers compulsively tracing an odd-shaped piece of metal.
Something she’d failed to notice missing from the wheel or under the bonnet perhaps. ‘What’s that?’
He jumped, as though she’d startled him, and looked up, his eyes rheumy. ‘Where d’you get this?’
She took two steps forward. ‘What is it?’
He dangled a strip of hinged metal from his fingers. ‘A bit.’
‘A bit of what?’
‘A bit. Mouthpiece from a bridle. Goes in the horse’s mouth to help you control it.’
‘I’ve got no idea.’ Nathaniel appeared to have complete control over his horse when they came down the mountain. And his saddle was all in one piece on the back of the wagon. ‘It must be something from the motor. I collected all the pieces that broke off.’ She held out her hand.
Denman stared down at the piece of metal. ‘I don’t know much about these motors but I’m pretty sure you use a steering wheel.’
‘Of course you do. Don’t be silly.’
‘I ain’t being silly.’ He slipped it into the pocket of his jacket. ‘Right, let’s get a move on. Show me how we get this thing going. I’ve got no intention of spending the night here.’
It took a good four cranks to get the first spark and just when she’d as good as given up Lizzie sprang to life. Lettie leapt in behind the wheel, determined to keep the engine running.
‘I’ll be right behind you. Take it easy. Too far back to Frog Hollow tonight, too late for Dartbrook too, and me stomach thinks me throat’s been cut. We’ll pull into Rossgole and camp there. You can call in to Frog Hollow on the way back from Dartbrook. I’ve got motor spirit that’ll see you back to Yellow Rock, and the road from there’s metalled.’
She could see the wisdom in his words and had no intention of arriving at Dartbrook in the dark. She had no idea who or what she’d find. ‘Do you need any help with the horses?’
He threw her a look which didn’t want translating and shuffled back to the wagon.
Praying the wheel would hold she eased onto the track and called Oxley. He leapt in beside her and settled on the seat. The steering wasn’t the best and the wobble in the wheel with the missing spindle didn’t help.
Once she crested the hill the track widened and she pulled to a halt, dug out her goggles from the back seat, cleaned them off while she waited for Denman and the wagon to appear before setting off again.
She crawled along not far in front of Denman, the road pitted with potholes and the light fading, and after a few miles he waved at her to slow and pulled alongside. ‘Through that gate. I’ve a mind for baked rabbit. How does that sound?’
Oxley’s ears pricked in response. What difference would one more day make? Olivia would know by now she’d come to no harm and once she’d called in to Dartbrook she’d have an easy run back down the stock route if Denman was to be believed. She had no reason to doubt him. After the past couple of days, she couldn’t think of anything better than an easy run on a metalled road.