As Jake drove his battered wagon towards Feagan’s General Store his mind was only half tuned to the world around him. Summer seemed unwilling to end and the day promised to deliver the sticky heat that Jake knew gave a bloke saddle rash if he wasn’t too careful.
Early that morning Jake had packed in the false bottom of his wagon the expensive new saddle Terence Ogden had asked him to choose for his favourite thoroughbred, Jupiter’s Darling, and the fowling pieces and cartridges the landholder had ordered. All he needed now was to fill up the cart with bales of stockfeed to act as camouflage in the event he was bailed up.
As always he kept a sharp eye out for bushrangers. The traps were fighting a losing battle to maintain law and order. The army of bolters who’d taken up arms grew by the week.
But as alert for trouble as he was, he continued to mull over the painful showdown he’d witnessed between Gem and Keziah the previous week. He knew her heart still belonged to Gem. So what was the strength of her surprising revelation of her marriage proposal? And how on earth had she ever met Daniel Browne? Jake had chatted with the artist whenever he had occasion to pass Gideon Park. Although Daniel looked more haggard each visit, he always seemed pleased to see Jake, talked about his paintings and asked for news of the outside world. How odd that Daniel had never even mentioned Keziah or marriage.
Jake was damned sure Keziah hadn’t told him the full story behind Daniel’s wooing. But how could he blame her? She was shattered by Gem’s rejection. Good women were devious, even the best of them. That woman gets herself into one bloody mess after another. She’s desperate to find Gem and sort things out, which is a bit of a problem what with Gypsy Gem Smith’s name on the traps’ Wanted Dead or Alive posters.
Jake felt discomforted by the way Kez always looked at him. Like he was one of King Arthur’s knights who could ride off on Horatio, solve her problem and give her a happy ending.
‘That’s what happens when a woman saves your life, Horatio. You’re stuck with being in her debt.’
The thought of tomorrow’s date depressed him. A painful anniversary – Pearl’s sixth birthday and he wasn’t an inch closer to finding her. Would he even be able to recognise her if he passed her in the street?
In the general store Jake found Feagan was as usual busy dispensing news as he wrapped parcels.
‘What’s the world coming to? We now have two bushrangers who claim they are One Eye. Jabber Jabber has escaped from custody yet again. And that Irish scoundrel Paddy Corcoran confessed to violating an overseer’s wife.’
Jake picked up his cue. ‘Any news of The Gypsy’s gang?’
‘Sergeant Kenwood told me The Gypsy ransacked two homesteads this week, not ten miles from where we stand.’ Feagan turned a tobacco-stained smile towards Jake. ‘But what can you expect? The Gypsies have been thieves since God was in his cradle.’
Jake made no comment. Feagan was enthused by the large order Jake had placed on behalf of Terence Ogden.
‘Those big landowners sure live in style. I hear tell Ogden’s staging a fox hunt for some sporting English gentlemen just off the boat. ’Roos in place of foxes. Need more ammunition?’
Feagan’s wink was conspiratorial. Jake knew his answer would be common knowledge all over Bolthole Valley by midday, and hopefully would find its way to a bushranger’s ears.
‘No. Never carry arms or ammo. Just whisky. Plenty of room to load my wagon with this horse feed.’
At The Shanty with No Name Jake bought two bottles of whisky and positioned them to act as a decoy to protect the hidden stash of ammunition whenever the flap of the wagon’s tarpaulin was raised. If Feagan’s information was accurate, Gem was likely to be holed up close at hand. Jake had proved the bushrangers’ grapevine effective in the past to make contact. The trick lay in managing to get bailed up by a decent bushranger who could be relied on to pass his message to Gem.
He didn’t have long to wait. It was a muggy day made worse by the maddening attention of mosquitoes that bred in the nearby swamp. Jake had no sooner crossed the single-arch stone bridge than he heard the familiar cry, ‘Bail up! Your money or your life!’
‘Jesus, here we go again, Horatio!’ Jake moved his wagon to the side of the road and looked at the young assailant. Taffy Owens was obviously so new to the game his legs twitched like a kid who needs to take a pee, and his firearms belonged in a museum.
‘Mind if I stop for a smoke?’ Jake asked politely. ‘Been a real bugger of a day.’
‘I’d never bail you up, Jake,’ Taffy apologised. ‘You being a mate of Jabber Jabber and The Gypsy. Enjoy your smoko before you shoot off.’
Jake glanced down the empty road. ‘Yeah, wouldn’t want to hold up the traffic. I’m on my way to deliver a load of feed to Ogden Park. I’ll look the other way while you help yourself to the whisky in the back.’
‘Thanks, mate. I’m as dry as a dead sheep.’
Jake’s question was casual. ‘Can you get a message to my mate, Gem Smith?’
Taffy nodded, loath to pause from swigging the whisky.
‘Gem claims he was a bare-knuckle champ at Home. Tell him twenty pounds says I can beat him, but we need to have a yarn first. I’ll be camped by Mutmutbilly swamp.’
‘He’ll get your message before sundown,’ Taffy promised.
• • •
As the sinking sun stained the sky orange behind the hills, Jake stretched out on his swag beside his campfire. His hat adorned with a galah feather covered his face to discourage the mosquitoes. He’d been told the Aboriginal double use of ‘mut’ indicated a double dose of mosquitoes in the swampy billabong. Jesus wept. They weren’t half joking.
At the sound of a lone rider’s approach Jake feigned sleep but kept his left hand close to his hidden pistol.
The voice behind him was dark and silky. ‘So you fancy you can lick me, eh pal?’
Jake opened one eye. ‘I reckon all the fellas I beat have good reason to remember me.’
Gem laughed and dismounted. From the corner of his eye Jake saw a flash of his gold earring. The gold coins on Gem’s waistcoat, the silver butt of his pistols and his elaborate silver belt proved the rumours. The Gypsy did pack more gold and silver than the Bank of England.
Jake casually laid out the fresh loaf of bread he’d bought in Bolthole, figuring that Gem must be sick of eating damper and biscuits laced with weevils. With a flourish he produced a bottle of red wine with a flash label.
‘A new Hunter Valley wine. Could you go a drink?’ Jake took care to offer Gem the pannikin with his right hand. He knew Gem drank red wine. He had seen Keziah tip a small quantity onto the earth, as token offering to her gods, before she drank.
Gem did the same thing then savoured the wine. ‘This ain’t shanty grog. A fine drop.’
‘Not every day I do a deal with a boxer who’s near good enough to be in my class.’
Gem laughed. ‘I can whip you in two rounds. What makes you keen to die young?’
‘A proposition. If you’re as good as you claim you won’t be able to resist it.’
‘What’s the deal?’
‘I know the risk I’m running in telling you this. You’re a bit of a legend round here. Everyone knows Gypsy Gem Smith has a wild temper.’
Gem puffed up with pride, encouraging Jake to continue. He handed him the bread.
‘If I tell you, do you guarantee you won’t give me a bullet sandwich?’
Gem’s laughter rent the air as he slapped Jake on the back. ‘Well, if you aren’t a right cheeky bugger! I like your style. You have my word I won’t shoot you.’
‘It’s a matter of a lady’s honour. Nah! Not my woman! Just a friend in need.’
Gem’s hand beckoned for Jake to provide her name. Jake hesitated.
‘She’s hiding from the law. A woman you and I both know – Keziah Stanley.’
Gem sprang to his feet in a flash. He ranted half in Romani, half in English laced with a bit of gaol cant, but there was no indication that he intended to draw a pistol.
Jake waited for Gem to calm down before he asked, ‘Does this mean you’re going to turn your back on twenty pounds?’
‘Why the hell do you want to fight for her? She’s a whore and a whore’s daughter!’
‘So what do you care?’
‘Because she’s my whore.’
‘I reckon you do want her!’ said Jake. ‘Go tell her that. The woman’s crazy about you.’
Gem’s eyes flashed. ‘You’re hot to tumble her yourself!’
‘Nah, I’ve got plenty of women of my own to keep me busy in bed, thanks very much. Your wife’s just a mate but she saved my life once. I don’t fancy being in a woman’s debt.’
Gem’s voice was thick with hatred. ‘I wouldn’t let that whore touch me in my coffin!’
‘Fair enough, mate,’ Jake agreed. He struggled to conceal his anger at hearing Keziah labelled a whore. Passing the bottle back to Gem he remained silent until Gem returned to the offer of the fight.
‘So. You agree to pay me thirty pounds when I beat you senseless, pal.’
‘Hang on! I said twenty.’
‘Twenty-five!’ Gem said quickly.
‘Do you think I’m made of money? This is all I’ve got.’ Jake removed his left banking boot and emptied the pouch on the swag.
Gem was impressed. ‘So, it’s no bluff. But if, in your wildest dreams, you beat me, what’s your reward?’
‘If you win, you cop the purse. You lose, you cop half the purse, but I want your handshake on a promise.’
‘What’s the trick?’
‘No trick. If I win, either you take Keziah back as your wife, like she wants, or else you let her go once and for all.’ Jake weighed up his words. ‘In which case you make me your witness when you two jump backwards over the broomstick.’
Gem looked stunned. ‘What are you? A didikai?’
‘Jesus wept. What the hell’s that?’ asked Jake.
‘A man with a Romani grandfather. Are you?’
‘Not that I bloody know of, mate.’
Gem offered his hand. ‘If you’re so eager to lose twenty-five pounds—’
‘Twenty!’
‘All right, twenty, for me to give you a boxing lesson. I accept.’
When Gem wrapped his hands around Jake’s right hand, Jake grinned. Gem had not guessed that Jake was a southpaw – he’d discover that little surprise in the ring.
‘Choose the time and place,’ said Jake.
Gem sprang into the saddle. ‘The day of the Coronation Races. Enjoy your women while you can, pal. They won’t recognise you after two rounds with me!’ He added coldly, ‘But leave my whore alone!’
‘She’s all yours, mate. Not my type. I fancy redheads small enough to fit in my pocket.’
As the sound of horse hooves faded, Jake lay back, covered his face with his hat and heaved a sigh of relief. Done!
• • •
In Goulburn, Jake pushed his way down Market Street through the milling crowd to the post office to collect his mail.
Two Sterling blokes ahead of him in the queue were discussing the upcoming Coronation Races. They bemoaned the delay in celebrating so many months after the Queen had been crowned, ‘the curse of living down here, cut off from events at Home’.
‘I hear tell Ogden will play host to the vice-regal party,’ said one. ‘No doubt he’s out to cut quite a dash.’
‘Quite. He’s donated a silver cup for the race. Expects his own horse, Jupiter’s Darling, is bound to win it. His rival Thomas Icely won’t be entering any of his thoroughbreds so there’ll be no real competition from the local nags, what?’
Jake realised why Ogden had ordered that expensive saddle. Jupiter’s Darling was Ogden’s pride and joy, a horse descended from Sky Prince, the first thoroughbred he’d imported from England.
Jake took delivery of a letter written in an unknown hand. He crossed to the Travellers’ Home Inn and laboured over reading it:
A friend is writing this for me. Here’s a yarn you will enjoy. I bolted soon after arriving in the colony, borrowed a horse from Ogden’s estate. Sky Prince. I returned him but the damage was done. Here’s the joke. I’ve entered a colt in the Coronation Races sired by Sky Prince out of a brumby I’d stashed away. Sarishan will beat all those horses with impeccable bloodlines. I’m counting on you to find him a jockey and collect the silver cup for me. I’ll be there to watch him romp home!
Your pal
Jake roared with laughter. What a glorious trick on the world of Exclusives if a bushranger’s horse beat their thoroughbreds!
He raised his Albion Ale to toast Gem. ‘I’d pass up my own funeral before I’d miss the silver cup.’
Jake’s glass of amber froze in midair. You bugger, Gem. Now I’ve got to train your horse for the Coronation Races and train myself for our grudge match! And you made bloody sure they’re both on the same day!
Jake left the public house and stopped dead in his tracks. Tethered to his wagon was a magnificent black colt pawing the ground. Gem Smith had left his calling card.