Westerly winds carried the unmistakable threat of distant bushfires. It was the smell of a danger Jake accepted had always been wedded to this land and always would be.
He was in the open stables proudly overseeing Gabriel as he brushed Alinta’s coat. The club-footed filly was the boy’s special love. The task of grooming her was the reward Jake had assigned to Gabriel last Christmas when he brought Alinta home from Ogden Park. Gabriel knew Alinta’s story, but Jake was aware the boy never tired of hearing it over and over again.
‘Well mate, I’d treated one of Mr Ogden’s racehorses. He wanted to pay me in kind with one of his other thoroughbred fillies. He claimed a horse deformed as bad as Alinta would never race and was no use to him or me. But just look at her, Gabe! She won my heart right off.’
Gabriel’s eyes shone as he prompted Jake to continue. ‘And then you and Uncle Bran made her a false hoof, right?’
‘Yeah, and her special training shoes. A lot of trial and error but we finally got it right. And just look at her go. Did you watch her training yesterday?’
‘Yeah. Dick Gideon rode her like the wind. He says she’s going to win lots of races, just like the silver cup Sarishan won for us.’
‘Watch Dick ride every chance you get. He’s a great horseman. You’re going to be flash yourself.’ Jake tapped his own forehead with one finger. ‘I know these things.’
Gabriel basked in the pleasure of this vote of confidence and redoubled his energy grooming Alinta. ‘You did it, Papa! She’ll be a champ. That’ll show Mr Ogden!’
‘Don’t worry, he’s already impressed.’ Jake tried to be fair. ‘Remember, Gabe, an Exclusive who loves horses can’t be all bad. Some other thoroughbred owners would have given up on her and sent her to the knackery. Alinta will always need special care.’
‘Just wait till Mama sees her!’ They exchanged their special knowing grin, always confident that the day of her return might lie just over the horizon.
Jake looked across at the house where Pearl was bathing little Yosie in a tin tub on the veranda. He felt a wave of guilt that his ten-year-old daughter had taken on the role of nursemaid. He made sure she and Gabriel continued to ride Pony to school each day, but it made him uncomfortable to think that history was repeating itself. His father had pulled him out of school because he needed him to do a man’s work on the farm. Was he exploiting child labour?
Jake was distracted by the sight of Daniel on horseback belting across the paddock towards them. ‘Jesus wept. He looks like the traps are after him.’
Daniel almost fell off the horse as he thrust a letter at him.
Jake read it slowly. He steeled himself against the possibility of a mistake as Gabriel stood waiting anxiously at his elbow. Despite his embarrassment about his slow reading, Jake was determined to be the one to break the good news.
‘Hey, my little Rom. Listen to this. “His Excellency’s the Governor’s Pleasure to dispense with the attendance at government work of Keziah Browne also known as Smith and Stanley, also known as Saranna Plews.”’
‘That’s Mama!’ cried Gabriel.
‘Yeah. There’s some other stuff, date of her trial and all. Then it goes on: ‘To permit her to employ herself (off the Stores) in any lawful occupation within the District of New South Wales for her own advantage during good behaviour; or until His Excellency’s further Pleasure shall be made known. Registered in the Office of the …’ Jake stalled and Daniel quickly supplied, ‘The Principal Superintendent of Convicts.’
‘Yeah,’ said Jake, ‘it’s numbered and dated. Looks pretty bloody official to me!’ He turned to Daniel. ‘Her ticket-of-leave. No backing out of this one, eh Dan?’
Gabriel’s eyes darted anxiously from one to the other in search of an explanation.
‘It means your mama’s coming home soon, Gabe!’ Jake confirmed.
Gabriel reverently traced the embossed emblem with one finger. The familiar British lion and unicorn stood like tiny bookends either side of the heraldic shield topped by the British crown. Gabe headed off in the direction of the veranda.
‘Hey, Pearl! She’s coming home!’ he screamed.
Jake hugged Daniel then awkwardly broke away. As they headed back to the house he was jubilant. ‘Jesus wept, tonight we’ll drink the cellar dry. You and Bran come and eat with us before the children go to bed. It’s their big night!’
‘And ours! I’ll bring the special bottles of red I’ve been saving for this day.’
Jake stopped in his tracks, suddenly serious. ‘This is real, ain’t it, Dan? Those official buggers can’t change their minds – at the Governor’s bloody Pleasure, can they?’
‘Not a chance, mate. It’s the real thing. As long as Keziah keeps her nose clean. The prison deputy says she’s a model prisoner.’ Daniel called as he rode off, ‘We’ll see you tonight with bells on.’
Jake was determined the children would remember this celebration all their lives. ‘No school today!’ he announced. ‘We’re giving the house a bit of spit and polish.’
Jake felt a great sense of relief, as if Keziah wasn’t the only one to be set free from gaol. Every day he rose at dawn, cooked and cared for the children, tended the horses, milked the cow and ran the farm. The kids fed the chooks and watered the vegetable plot before they rode Pony to school. It was late each night before Jake dropped exhausted into bed. Except Saturday nights. Then he carried Yosie on his shoulders and walked with Pearl and Gabriel to the forge house at the far end of
Sarishan Farm for one of Bran’s baked dinners. Only then did Jake drink alcohol, a whole bottle of ale to remind himself he was a free man.
Each Sunday he drove the children to one of the Sunday schools. Not for the religion. While the bush church resounded with children singing hymns, Jake stretched out, covered his face with his hat and caught up on sleep.
Despite his exhaustion he had no regrets about rejecting his mates’ advice to apply to the authorities for an assigned housekeeper. He wanted no substitute mother for the children. And Keziah must never fear another woman might be keeping his bed warm.
• • •
At six o’clock Daniel and Bran rolled up. Daniel cradled a box of wine and Bran carried a huge bowl of the children’s favourite pudding – rolypoly topped with lashings of blackberry jam and clotted cream.
Jake decided to throw out the rule book about the children’s bedtimes on this glorious night of celebration. The three men were soon drunk on sheer relief as much as wine. When they ran out of two-legged friends they toasted their horses.
Then Gabriel leapt on his chair and held aloft his lemonade to Daniel’s portrait of Keziah, which hung in pride of place beside Keziah’s framed print of Queen Victoria.
‘To Mama, God bless her! And Queen Victoria too!’
They all sprang to their feet. Jake’s republican sympathies did not count a damn that night. He led the response, ‘To Mama and Queen Victoria! God bless ’em both!’
He turned to Daniel for advice. ‘You’ve had experience with the ticket-of-leave process. Fill us in. I’ll need to keep a sharp eye on Kez. Make sure she doesn’t put a foot wrong.’
Jake noted the children’s anxiety, but Daniel was quick to reassure them.
‘It’s easy. Your mama will be mustered four times a year to have her ticket endorsed by the Principal Superintendent of Convicts.’ He winked at the children. ‘So no hopping on a ship to England for a bit of a holiday, right!’
‘I reckon we can manage that,’ said Jake. ‘And?’
Daniel quoted the conditions by heart. ‘Must attend church or some place of public worship at least once every Sunday. And that prisoners who shall fail to do so are immediately to be deprived of their ticket-of-leave and turned into government employ.’ He punched the air. ‘How’s that? Word perfect!’
Jake groaned. ‘Church every Sunday! Jesus, Kez will love that bit!’
‘You’re telling me! It was hard enough to get her to church for her wedding!’
‘With you as bridegroom, no bloody wonder she wanted to bolt!’ said Jake.
When Daniel pretended to roar with anger, Gabriel gave a tolerant smile.
Jake suspected the boy had begun to wise up to his unusual position as son to three fathers and had worked out that Caleb was the one who had invited the stork.
Jake refilled their glasses. ‘No two ways about it, Kez will have to go to church or she’ll be shot back into the Factory.’
Bran hammered his giant fist so hard the crockery rattled. He tried valiantly to speak. ‘One – Kez. F-f—’
Everyone held their breath. Bran held up five fingers and Daniel interpreted.
‘He means we’re five to one! Dead right. We’ve got her outnumbered!’
After Jake shepherded the sleepy children to bed, he brought out the port wine.
‘You’re true blue, both of you. I reckon I’d never have done it without you.’
He studied Daniel with the sincerity of the seriously drunk. ‘If my
woman has to have a legal husband, she could do no better than you!’
Bran’s laughter was so deep in his chest it sounded like the giant bellows in his forge. Daniel was never more formal than when he was in his cups.
‘Deeply honoured to be your wife’s public husband.’
By the time the trio had sung the seamen’s work song Bound for South Australia, the false piccaninny dawn lay faint and pink along the horizon.
Weaving as he departed, supported by Bran, Daniel called to Jake, ‘No shut-eye tonight, mate. I’ll just pack the cart and it’s off to Parramatta to collect our wife.’
Jake remembered to give him a parcel of clothes for Keziah’s homecoming and watched the pair lustily singing as they headed back to the forge house.
He was struck by an odd thought. When Bran sang, all trace of his dislocated speech disappeared. His voice soared joyously like that of a Welsh tenor.
Jake staggered off to the stables to check on his welcome-home present for Keziah. The white Arab colt was the finest horse he had ever seen in his life. To pay for her he had outlasted thirteen punishing rounds against a Maori who was the best man he’d ever fought – after Gem Smith.
He stroked the colt’s snowy mane and reassured him. ‘Your mistress will be home inside of two weeks. I’m leaving Kez to give you your name. You know what you are, mate? You’re the best present a man can give his Romani woman!’