Haunted Creek (20 page)

Jim threw his reins over the horse’s neck and followed her. ‘Now, Rose, this can’t be right. Did that woman suggest it? Luke had his faults, but he was … fond of you. He was full of plans for the future. But unluckily, he died.’ He stopped and there was silence for a while.

‘Then – why wasn’t I there at the funeral? Noojee is only a few hours up the track.’ Rose moved nearer to Jim and looked straight at him. ‘Can you swear to me that Luke is dead?’

Jim sighed and there was silence for a while; Rose could hear the thumping of her heart. ‘No-o, I can’t, Rose. You’re putting a doubt in my mind.’ Rose held her breath as he paused. ‘You see, I’d ate
something that disagreed with me that week. I was sick as a dog. So they went out and I stayed in the hut. Didn’t see the accident or the funeral – I was too crook. I was shocked, of course, when Tom told me, but I’ve got no proof. All I saw was the cross, same as you.’ His horse was wandering off and Jim went to bring it back. ‘The first time I dragged myself out of the hut was the day we came to tell you about it.’

She remembered how pale and miserable Jim had looked that day. ‘So I might still be a wife, not a widow. A deserted wife.’ Rose started to move away with the donkey, sick with disappointment. She had thought that Jim would be able to give her the truth.

‘Rose … I can’t say. Really don’t know what was in Luke’s mind. Tom might know – he’d have had to get Tom to tell the tale. I suppose it might have been like that. Tom’s a close one.’ Jim looked shaken by the idea. ‘Yes, it might have been … Luke was always looking for a change, something different.’

‘That’s why I thought … it might be true.’

‘I could make some enquiries, if you like.’ Jim swung back into his trap. ‘Gotta go now, I have an appointment. But shall I tell you my news? We’re going to be married next month – you’ll be invited to the wedding.’ Jim shook the reins and the horse moved off. ‘Try not to worry too much, girl,’ he said over his shoulder.

O
H, NO
!
I
cannot believe it
. Erik stood in the mellow dusk, his hand outstretched and ready to open the gate.
I didn’t want to believe it
.

Across her garden, prettier than he remembered it, he could see the veranda of Rose’s house. This was the moment he had planned for. He was going to talk to Rose, to see whether she could marry him with a whole heart after all she had been through. He would take it gently, of course, but the time should be right. He’d brought flowers. They looked silly now.

Rose was there, but she was with a man. Barrington. He felt it like a physical blow.

One or two people had mentioned Barrington in connection with Rose, but like a fool he hadn’t believed that there was a connection. But here she was on the veranda with her arms round the man. They were laughing together.
He must be twice her age,
Erik thought bitterly
. I’ve got it all wrong; I should have moved in as soon as Luke had gone, or soon after. It’s too late now
. They were so easy together, they must be intimate.

So this was what Rose was doing, while he waited for her to recover from Luke’s death. Well, she would have been lonely and that villain had taken advantage of her isolation.

Erik walked back up the track to Wattle Tree, his head down and his hopes in ruins, cursing himself for a fool. Barrington he knew slightly as a rather affected speaker who may or may not have been a lord. Rose probably liked him because he was
English – perhaps the title impressed her, although he couldn’t imagine it. But then, he hadn’t really known Rose, after all. This proved it.

How did you replan your entire life? It had been foolish, he knew now, to build all his plans and hopes on a woman without telling her, or even seeing her very often. It had been arrogant to suppose that she would be there waiting for him when he decided that it was the right time to speak.

Barrington was a fraud, Erik was almost certain, probably an actor with that deep resonant voice. He passed himself off as a lord to take advantage of people who were impressed by a title or by an air of authority. He was probably a felon from van Diemen’s Land. Many boatloads of such people had sailed for Victoria some time ago when there was a shortage of food on the island. Victoria was proud of the fact that its people were free settlers, but there were plenty of convicts trickling in from elsewhere. Of course, not all were hardened criminals, but you had to watch out for people like Barrington.

The evening was now free. In fact, it was empty. Erik’s farm work was done for the day, his mother had gone to play cards with the Watsons at the store and he’d expected to be home late. The rest of his life stretched ahead … empty.

Aimlessly he walked past the house he shared with Freda near the school, up the narrow track to his own house. It was finished at last, the result of three years of planning and hard work. It was meant for Rose.

Even in his desolate mood, the house soothed Erik as he sat down in the last of the daylight and looked round. The moon was rising, silvering the beautiful woodwork. Most of the settlers lined their houses with pressed tin from Britain or plastered the walls. Erik had been to Sweden to visit his grandparents and he loved the clean uncluttered look of the wooden houses there. His house had wood-lined walls and windows that looked out over the mountains, with no fussy curtains to hide the view. There were blinds he could
roll down to keep out the heat and the cold. What if he had shown it to Rose at the start, asked her opinion? The thought was hard to bear; it was too late to have good ideas. But then, she’d been so single-minded about Luke for so long.

The house had several bedrooms, to allow for children. Freda had liked that, she wanted grandchildren. He’d had to admit to his mother that Miss Sinclair was not to be his bride, but he had not been able to bring himself to mention Rose. So poor Mother was in the dark as to Erik’s intentions; she wouldn’t be disappointed. A man had to have some private thoughts and plans. It would have been humiliating if anyone else had known.

Erik’s dog Dan had followed him up the track and now he sat on the veranda of his new house with only the dog for company. ‘Well, Dan, this is a pretty pickle,’ he said and the collie licked his hand. ‘What shall we do?’

The dog looked up at him and Erik was sure he could read Dan’s mind.
Well, let’s go droving
, the dog seemed to say.
Give it another go
. The faithful collie eyes looked into his and the bushy tail thumped on the boards.
What about the Brandy Creek run
, the dog seemed to say, his brown eyes never wavering.

‘You’ve been eavesdropping again,’ Erik said accusingly and then realized that he could be labelled as mad if anyone heard him. ‘Well, Duncan did ask us …’ The last time he’d seen Duncan, he’d been asked to collect some young cattle from Brandy Creek and run them up to Wattle Tree.

‘Any time that suits you, there’s no hurry,’ Duncan had told him. Brandy Creek was only a few days down the track, nothing like the Melbourne trip.

The moon rose higher, slanting across the carefully planted garden.
Let’s hope some woman enjoys the place one day
. ‘Oh, Lord,’ he said, head in hands. How could she take up with Barrington? Then he looked up and the dog was still waiting with a worried
expression
. ‘Right, we’ll go to Brandy Creek.’ He patted the dog and stood up. Life must go on.

The Brandy Creek trip was just the change of scene that Erik needed. At the Cobb & Co. lodging house, Erik stabled his horses. The place was quiet, waiting for the next mail coach. It was run by a pleasant family and Erik noticed as she gave him soup that the daughter was quite pretty.

‘You’re from Wattle Tree, I think.’ She smiled as she took his empty plate. ‘I remember you coming through years ago. My name’s Jenny.’

‘My goodness, how you’ve grown. You were a little girl then.’ Erik grinned. But he’d been much younger, too. ‘I’m Erik.’ The girl smiled and went back to her work. Later in the evening, her father Fred offered Erik a glass of beer and Jenny came to sit with them. He enjoyed the quiet chat but he wondered why Jenny was so interested in him. Whenever he looked her way, her dark eyes were turned on him.

The next morning, Erik enjoyed a good breakfast before saddling up. Jenny said to him quietly as he paid the bill, ‘I hope you’ll come through again soon, Erik.’

He looked down at the girl. Her teeth were white and her eyes sparkled with health. Jenny was neatly dressed and altogether an attractive young woman, fresh and efficient in spite of the fact that the Melbourne coach had stopped there in the middle of the night. ‘I might do that – I enjoyed last night,’ he said as he made for the door. What on earth would a young lass like this see in him? Perhaps she said that to all the drovers, in the interests of the
business
.

The small mob of heifers was in a safe paddock and they were docile, having been regularly handled. He and Dan grazed them eastwards, moving slowly along the three-chain road. They met a few carts and Erik spoke to the drivers as they passed. ‘Any good land left up your way?’ one man asked hopefully.

‘Plenty, if you don’t mind the hills.’ People were needed, solid
respectable settlers, not itinerant miners. The mail coach passed them without incident and by early evening they reached Shady Creek.

Erik sat on his horse and watched as the cattle drank eagerly from the creek; they were thirsty after a hot day. The dog Dan was always on the watch, rounding up any that even looked like straying from the group. The evening was deepening to purple, the
mountains
misty in the distance and the spicy scent of the bush wafted over him in a breath of cooler air.

Nearby was the drover’s paddock where the cattle bedded down, safe behind fences, tired after the walk and not likely to give trouble. Erik slept in his bedding roll under the stars. They were off at first light the next day and Erik and Dan had the cattle
delivered
to his neighbour Sawley just before sunset.

Dan loved the whole trip; his tail was held high as he circled the cattle, watchful of any that showed signs of lagging behind. He went ahead to block off side roads or gateways. He didn’t argue and he was the perfect companion. ‘How much for the dog?’ one
traveller
asked as he watched them, but Erik and Dan both laughed at him.

‘Come in for a drink,’ Ben Sawley urged him when the cattle were safely established in the paddock at their destination. So Erik and Dan went to sit on the Sawleys’ veranda and drink a glass of homemade wine, looking out over the donkey paddock. ‘It’s a grand place, this,’ Mrs Sawley said in her homely north of England accent. ‘Would you live anywhere else, lad?’

‘Never. I thought of leaving, but no … I’ll stay here. You wouldn’t find a better spot.’ Erik breathed out slowly. Well, that was one decision made. He would stay, even if the new house was sold. In fact if he sold it he could buy more land. And perhaps he should spend some time with Jenny at Brandy Creek, although it seemed impossible to think of any woman except Rose. Life must go on.

Erik rode home, looking forward to a meal and bed. It was just
after dark when he stabled the horses and went into the house. There was no light. That was strange; Freda always lit the lamps early.

The house was quiet except for the ticking of the clock. ‘Mother! Freda?’ Perhaps she was visiting a neighbour. Erik walked into the sitting room and found his mother lying on the floor.

Heart thumping, Erik knelt beside the still figure. At his touch she stirred and opened her eyes. ‘You’re home,’ she said, and closed them again. ‘Light the lamp, will you?’

At least she was lucid. With hands that shook a little from shock, Erik lit the lamp. ‘Can you get up now, Mother?’ He helped her and with a struggle, got her into a chair. ‘What happened? How long have you been there?’

‘It was after school … I came in here and everything went black. I woke up on the floor and decided to stay there … I felt so tired. I kept thinking I would get up in a minute or two. I didn’t mean to alarm you, Erik.’

Erik brought her a glass of water and Freda said she was feeling almost normal. ‘I’m taking you to the doctor in Moe tomorrow,’ Erik said firmly. When she protested he said, ‘I have to see the agent and get my pay – you may as well come along.’ He would also see Mr Sinclair, to ask about drawing up a legal title for the new house. They agreed that Mrs Watson from the store could be asked to look after the school for the day.

When Freda came out of the doctor’s surgery the next day she was agitated. Erik was waiting with the buggy, but when he saw her face her jumped down, tied up the horse to a rail and took her to a tearoom. ‘I’ve got to rest,’ she moaned. ‘My heart’s the problem. No more school until next term, he said.’ She drank her tea and then admitted, ‘I do feel like a rest. But what about the school?’

‘We’ll write to the Board, ask for another teacher. That’s easy.’ Erik felt guilty; he’d allowed Freda to do too much on the farm as well as running the school. ‘There should be two teachers by now, the way Wattle Tree is growing.’

Leaving Freda in the tea shop with a second cup of tea, Erik went to see Mr Sinclair, who greeted him warmly. He asked politely after Harriet and was told she was very happy in Sale. They discussed the documents needed for the new house and then Erik said casually, ‘Would you mind if I had a look at Burke’s Peerage, sir? I want to check on our neighbour Lord Barrington.’

Sinclair laughed as he took down the heavy volume and began to turn the pages. ‘No-o, there are plenty of earls, but he’s not there.’ He peered up at Erik through his spectacles. ‘I believe he’s a bit of a rogue, you know.’

‘May I look?’ Erik picked up the book just to be sure; he wanted Rose to know the truth. The man could be a lord without being an earl. His heart sank when he found an entry: ‘The Viscount Barrington.’ Jasper was there, large as life, and he was, as Erik had suspected, about fifty. ‘He’s not an earl, he’s a viscount,’ Erik told the lawyer. ‘His lordship.’ Well, if he was of blue blood he should behave better. A true gentleman would not have ruined Rose’s reputation by living in her house.

The lawyer shook his head. ‘No proof. There may be such a person, but is the man we know the real viscount? He may be an actor.’

With a sigh, Erik turned back to the problem of his mother. He borrowed paper and pen from Duncan Black and Freda wrote a letter to the education authorities before they went home, to catch the evening mail from Moe which would save a day. He would have to help with the school himself for a few days until the teacher arrived; Freda would tell him what to do. He was determined that she should not set foot in the school.

The letter from the Education Board arrived a week later and it was disappointing. Another teacher had been planned because of the expansion at Wattle Tree, but not until the next term. There was no teacher available at the moment. For the remaining six weeks of term, the Board recommended as an emergency measure that a retired teacher should be found to fill the gap, or an honest
and sober citizen with some education who could supervise the important subjects, writing and arithmetic.

A few days later, they had drawn a blank. Erik had ridden round the neighbours, but it seemed there were no teachers in Wattle Tree and Haunted Creek.

‘I know it might be difficult for you, Erik, but I think we’ll have to ask Rose, if she can spare the time,’ Freda said quietly. ‘She was very good with the sewing class and is quite well educated; she reads a great deal.’

Erik looked at his mother sharply but she only smiled. ‘You used to be friends but I’ve noticed you avoid her now and perhaps I can guess why.’

‘Jumping to conclusions again, Ma.’ He was not going to admit to anything. But there was no choice; Freda would hardly get well if she were worrying about the school. ‘I’ll ask Rose. I’ll go there tonight,’ Erik promised. ‘I suppose I should admit that I – I’m disappointed she took up with Barrington.’