Ironbark (31 page)

‘Sorry, cockies!' she said contritely. She felt relieved her schoolchildren were not present to witness Miss Plews throwing a tantrum. Would she never master her fiery Romani temper?

Keziah returned inside to search the other newspapers for more clues to Caleb's movements.

What had caused Caleb to become involved in such a harebrained scheme? The whole colony was divided about whether the fabled Inland Sea even existed. Some believers were ready to put money on the intrepid young explorer Edward Eyre being the man to discover it. Others backed Charles Sturt.

Far better men than Caleb Morgan deserved to be chosen. But no doubt Morgan money was behind it, and Caleb expected to make history and cover the Morgan name with glory. The idea of him leading an expedition was absurd.
The fool couldn't cross the road without a black tracker to guide him!
But then she remembered the prediction she had
given him in the library at Morgan Park. She
had
seen him crossing a desert with black men – returning a hero!

Overwhelmed with sudden panic she burst into tears of frustration. The newspapers' dates meant the expedition might have already departed. It was expected to take six months. That meant Caleb
would
return from this stupid exploration a public hero, lionised by colonial society. What hope would she have then to retain custody of Gabriel?

She tried to convince herself.
I've pulled myself out of tough situations before this. I've got six months to devise a plan to block him!

• • •

Next morning Keziah discovered an envelope had been placed under her door during the night. She tore it open with shaking hands, expecting to see the Morgan family crest. Instead she found a note from Joseph Bloom, advising her he had received communication from a Sydney Town lawyer acting on instructions from Caleb Morgan. She was alarmed to read:

This lawyer states that his client is convinced that the body buried in Bolthole cemetery is not Mrs Keziah Stanley also known as Mrs Smith – and that she is alive and has kidnapped the Morgan heir. He advises he has in his possession a legal document in which Keziah Stanley signed away all rights to this child in exchange for a generous payment from the Morgan family. The lawyer requested me to supply him with any information about this woman and child as his client intends to take this matter to court on his return from leading an expedition into the Interior of the Continent.

I have written to inform him that the police thoroughly investigated the coach tragedy and Keziah Smith's fellow passengers confirmed her demise. Furthermore that the heavy demands of my legal practice prevent my being of further assistance in this matter.

Knowing that you, Miss Plews, were one of Keziah Smith's
fellow passengers I thought it only proper to inform you of these developments.

Your obedient servant, Joseph Bloom

Keziah covered her mouth to stifle a cry that would have woken Gabriel. Struggling to regain her calm she re-read the letter and thanked
The Del
for Joseph's loyalty and tactful concern for her. She knew that at present he only practised law to help friends in need and his reference to his demanding practice was designed to block Caleb's lawyer. Not for the first time she cursed herself for having signed John Morgan's contract, which would be damaging evidence against her in court.

In despair she crossed to the tiny bedroom and looked at the little blond angel in his cot. The only features that Gabriel had inherited from her were violet-blue eyes. Otherwise every other feature showed that he was Caleb Morgan's son – especially the cowlick. If Gabriel was ever presented in court what jury would believe that she had adopted him as a foundling?

All the next day Keziah searched the horizon, convinced someone important to her was drawing closer. The approaching figure of a man driving a battered old wagon aroused two conflicting instincts. Fear of discovery and a strange feeling of protection, a sense of lightness that seemed to emanate from him.

It was Jake Andersen!

His weathered hat flew off to hang behind him from a cord around his throat – leaving his long red-gold hair to be whipped by the wind. His striped shirt was blown open to the waist. His face, arms and chest were tanned golden brown. His eyes narrowed against the light of the sun and his crooked smile was lazy and confident. Keziah was pleased to see him. He was unlike any man she had ever met. Direct, strong, yet with a wild boyish streak that sprang from his colonial roots.

She ran out onto the veranda to greet him.

‘I'm relieved to find you fully recovered. May I offer you tea, Mr Andersen?'

‘It's Jake. Reckon I won't say no. Hey, something smells good.'

‘My grandmother's special Romani cake. I knew a friend would call today!'

‘I forgot you know everything before it happens.'

She laughed and he grinned back at her. Today he was clean-shaven so she could really see his features for the first time. The strong jaw, the mouth wide and generous. She found she needed to turn away from the frank expression in those grey eyes.

Why was he here? He hadn't come to try to get what all men wanted. Or had he?

Jake anticipated her unasked question. ‘Don't worry about your good name. I've just announced my presence to Joseph Bloom. He knows I'm safe around women.'

Keziah could not conceal her curiosity. ‘But how did you know I was Saranna?'

Jake looked embarrassed. ‘I didn't. I just
hoped
it was you.'

• • •

Jake sat watching Keziah all that afternoon as she rustled up cakes and biscuits for a tea that stretched for hours. His memories of the Widow Smith were at odds with the way she looked now.
Her jungle of hair is as untamed as ever. She's still a big girl. But now her waist is tiny. That bloody Caleb Morgan claims she's hiding his kid. Jesus wept! That means when I first met her she must have had a bun in the oven!

During the coach journey he'd been irritated by her barrage of questions. Now they were sitting at her kitchen table yarning for hours like old friends. When Keziah pressed him to stay to supper, Jake was quick to accept.

At the sound of a child's voice calling out from the bedroom, Keziah lifted the babe from his cot and carried him in to join them, adding
hastily, ‘This is Gabriel, a little foundling who was left in a box at the schoolhouse.'

Jake nodded.
Right, if that's the way she wants to play it. I'll go along with that.

He felt at ease as he bounced little Gabriel on his crossed legs in rhythmic pace to the same nursery rhyme he'd sung to his younger brothers. ‘Ride a cockhorse to Banbury Cross. To see a fine lady ride on a white horse. With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes – Gabriel shall have music wherever he g-o-e-s!'

At the end of the verse Jake tossed him up in the air, causing Gabriel to squeal in delight. Jake repeated the game and Gabriel jigged to continue it.

‘You'll get tired of that game before he does,' laughed Keziah.

‘Nice kid you've got here. His eyes are a dead ringer for yours.'

She hesitated as if carefully selecting her words to avoid an outright lie. ‘He's … I've legally adopted him. Best for him.'

‘Yeah, good idea,' said Jake.

She looked him straight in the eye. ‘You're an extraordinary man, Jake Andersen. You know who I am, but you haven't asked me why I'm living under Saranna's name. I owe you an explanation.'

‘You owe me nothing. I owe you my life,' Jake said.

‘It was your destiny to survive.'

He felt Keziah watching him as Gabriel gently pushed bits of cake into Jake's mouth as if he was feeding a bird.

‘Jake, I want you to know why I'm here. I thought my new life as Saranna Plews would be good for
him
. But I've got myself into a terrible mess. I don't know how on earth to get out of it!'

Jake felt awkward when he saw tears rolling down her cheeks.

‘Hey, don't upset yourself. It'll curdle your milk or something.'

When she gasped, Jake could have kicked himself.
Me and my big mouth. I didn't mean to embarrass her by stumbling on th
e
truth about her kid
.

Keziah told him how she had successfully stolen Saranna's name and position as schoolmistress. How she owed Saranna a debt of honour – to deliver her dying message.

‘I don't know her fiancé's name. He must be in hell wondering what happened to her.'

Jake tried to sound confident. ‘Look, there's a way to fix everything. Damned if I know exactly what at the moment, but leave it with me. I'll sort it out.' He added casually, ‘When I was in Sydney Town I saw that Pommy bloke who thinks the world of himself. Caleb Morgan.'

Jake saw that same flash of fear he'd seen in her eyes the day he had met her when that Cockney informer had quizzed him about Keziah Stanley.

He added quickly, ‘I only saw Morgan from a distance. He was leading his expedition down Macquarie Street from Government House, heading off on that fool's mission to find the Inland Sea – what ain't there, of course. So if you're real lucky the bloody fool will never find his way back.' He flushed with embarrassment. ‘Excuse the language!'

Keziah gave him a wondrous smile. ‘Wouldn't it be wonderful if he got a medal – and sailed straight back to England!'

‘Best place for him!' said Jake. Pleased by her response to his visit, he stood up preparing to go. ‘Well, best I let you get your beauty sleep. Thanks for the great grub. I'm sick of my own cooking.'

‘You're welcome anytime, Jake.'

It sounded to him like she really meant it. He paused on the veranda. ‘Ever seen a platypus?'

‘What's that?'

‘Hey, you've got a real treat in store. How's about I take you and the kid for a drive tomorrow? They're real shy but I know a creek where they breed. Those little fellas are sheer magic. I'll pick you up after breakfast. Say half seven?'

• • •

And so began the pattern of their occasional Sunday explorations. To Keziah it seemed that whenever she was with Jake the sun was always shining. It was clear to her that although Jake was ‘a man's man' he was widely known for his respect for good women. Jake always made their trips known to Hobson and Bloom, and to prevent any gossip before it broke out he made sure everyone in the locality was aware that he was beholden to the schoolteacher for saving his life after the Blackman's Leap accident.

Keziah sensed that Jake felt as comfortable as she did, both of them safe in the knowledge each was locked in a consuming relationship – Keziah in love, Jake in hate. Keziah had no need to hide her feelings for Gem. She made Jake retell his encounter with Gem on the road gang. Every detail about Gem was rough comfort.

Jake barely mentioned Jenny. Although he hotly denied it, Keziah knew he was still obsessed by his bolter. Every Romani understood that hate and love are two sides of the same coin. The less Jake said about his Jenny, the more curious she became.

On one of their Sunday drives west of Ironbark they were miles from any habitation when Jake drove down a rugged but well-made road that suddenly stopped dead in the heart of the bush. He explained this unfinished road had been intended to link remote villages to Sydney Town.

‘The surveyor committed suicide in disgrace. He built the road in the wrong direction. A road to nowhere.'

A half-hewn track skirted a giant cliff face on its eastern flank. To the west, the bush framed an expanse of open country. Jake pointed out a mob of galloping horses. ‘Now that's real freedom. Brumbies are born in the wild. They reckon they get their name from horses that bolted in the early years of the colony – owned by some Major Brumby.'

Keziah was excited by the sight of the white horse in the lead. ‘What a beauty!'

‘Yeah and just look at her go! No wonder bushrangers break in the
best of these brumbies, hide them in corrals. Some of the places where bolters hole up is an open secret. But the country's wild and they keep changing their address. They ride cross-country from one bail-up to another a hundred miles away. No wonder the bloody traps are baffled.'

Keziah gazed wistfully at the smoky purple mountains. ‘So Gem could be anywhere out there.'

‘Yeah but he's smart, your husband. Won't go hungry or get himself caught.'

She saw through his kindly lie but pressed on. ‘But if a bolter doesn't take up arms, how can he survive?'

Jake hesitated. ‘Some go bush. Try to live off the land. In the nineties, a wild rumour was spread by Irish convicts that there was a road to China on the other side of the Blue Mountains! The gov kept denying it existed, but that didn't stop the Irish, they escaped in droves. Some still do. Hope dies hard when a man's desperate.'

‘I know,' she said sadly.

Jake changed the subject quickly. ‘Well, time to head home.'

A few minutes later Keziah let out a piercing scream as a boulder rolled down the cliff and shattered the wagon's rear wheel.

Jake released a lungful of colourful expletives until suddenly aware Gabriel was watching his every move.

‘Jesus wept! That was a close thing,' said Jake as he heaved the offending rock off the road.

‘How about you brew us some tea? I'll get us on the road again. With a bit of luck we'll make Bran the Blacksmith's forge before sundown.'

Keziah soon had a small fire blazing and a billycan on the boil. She watched with quiet amusement as Jake laboured in the midday sun. Sweat stained his shirt and matted his hair. When he removed his shirt she could not fail to notice his beautifully developed torso. But unlike most men who had done a season in gaol his body seemed free
from tattoos. Unlike her father. Unlike Gem.