Blood in the Dust Read online

  Annie came over and examined the billy. ‘I remember seeing these in the store in Melbourne, Papa. Mama and I thought they were for storing water, not boiling it.’

  ‘They can be used for both,’ Toby said, pleased the girl was standing so close to him. ‘Here, give it a try.’ He passed the billy to Annie and she went to the fire, filled it from the kettle and set it amongst the coals.

  ‘Am I doing this right, Mr O’Rourke?’

  Toby wandered closer to the fire. ‘That looks fine to me. You can scrape a few burning embers around it to help it on its way.’ He picked up a stick and leaned over the girl to flick some wood around the billy. As he did so he caught a whiff of lilac and lavender from her hair.

  ‘I wonder what else we’re doing wrong, Frank?’ Maree said. She carried a plate of pork slices and set it on the blanket. ‘Help yourselves.’ As everyone munched away she added, ‘I have all the normal pots and pans one might find in a kitchen, Toby. Are they going to be suitable for the diggings?’ She had a worried look on her face.

  ‘For a permanent camp, yes, ma’am. You can make a good little fireplace with a tripod and a stone hearth. But don’t use river stones. Get some rocks from higher ground. River stones have been known to explode when used around a campfire.’

  ‘Explode!’ Maree threw a hand to her mouth. ‘Goodness. How are we ever to survive? This land has more dangers than I ever thought possible.’

  ‘I dare say we’ll pick it up as we go along,’ Frank muttered as he chewed his food. ‘You boys are obviously off to the diggings. Do you know much about it?’

  ‘Paddy and me spent a bit of time up at Bendigo Creek recently, but we weren’t there to look for gold. We pushed a herd of cattle up there to sell. We’ve seen how the miners work their claims, but that’s about it. As far as life on the diggings goes, we’re just as much new chums as you are.’

  ‘Mama, what’s a new chum,’ Betty asked, tugging at her mother’s sleeve.

  ‘I think Toby means beginner or someone new to the colony.’ She looked to Toby for confirmation and received a nod.

  ‘Is that what you do?’ Annie asked. ‘Raise cattle I mean.’

  ‘We used to, but we’ve had a run of really bad luck lately. Paddy and me are starting out anew. But we hope to make enough money on the diggings to buy our land back.’

  ‘What about your folks?’ Frank asked. ‘You’ll have to excuse me for saying so, but you fellows seem to be a little too young to be making your own way in the world.’

  Toby looked down into the embers of the fire. ‘Our ma and pa were murdered a few weeks ago.’

  Frank shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘No. It’s all right. You seem like decent people. You didn’t have to fix our wheel or offer us some of your food, but you did it anyway, because that’s the decent thing to do. We haven’t come across too many decent people lately.’ Toby looked up from the fire and found Frank’s piercing gaze on him. His father had looked at him that way whenever Toby had to tell him something important, something that mattered and required a man’s full attention. He began to speak, not stopping until their whole sad story was told. When he finished, the Hocking family stood staring at him in stunned silence. Beside him, Paddy cried, his shoulders shaking in silent grief. Maree swept the boy into her arms and hugged him tightly.

  ‘It’s all right, pet,’ she soothed, stroking Paddy’s hair with her hand. ‘You cry now. You let it all out. You have every right to.’

  Paddy threw his arms around the woman and sobbed uncontrollably. Toby felt a little embarrassed for his brother, but when he looked at the faces of the Hocking family, he found no contempt, only concern for an orphaned and grieving boy.

  Frank worked into the late afternoon and Toby and Paddy stood nearby, ready to lend a hand whenever needed. They were amazed at how Frank shaped the piece of river gum into a new spoke. It fitted perfectly into the space vacated by the damaged one. They replaced the wheel and lowered the wagonette back onto the ground.

  ‘Good as new,’ Frank said, taking a moment to admire his own handiwork before returning his tools to the canvas satchel. ‘Should last you a few years. I don’t have much of an idea about this Australian wood, but that seemed to be a good solid piece of timber. Well cured in this climate.’

  ‘That spoke will probably outlast all the others,’ Toby said, then turned his face to the sun. ‘Too late to be getting back on the road today.’ He turned to Paddy. ‘What do you reckon we camp here tonight?’

  Paddy nodded.

  ‘That settles it, then,’ Toby said. ‘We’ll get a good night’s sleep and head off in the morning.’

  ‘Sounds like a good plan,’ Frank said as he climbed onto the wagonette to stow his tools. ‘You can give us a few more pointers on living in the bush.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ Toby said, his gaze already casting about the campsite in search of Annie.

  They ate an early dinner seated about the campfire on makeshift chairs of logs and packing boxes. Frank held the boys in awe as he told the story of their voyage out from England and the days they had spent being tossed about in storms. Whenever a detail slipped his mind, he was quickly reminded of the omission by one of his daughters.

  ‘I tell you,’ he said loudly, leaning close to Paddy for effect, ‘by the time we sailed out into blue skies the bilges were awash with vomit.’

  ‘Ooh, Papa!’ the girls chorused together, screwing up their faces.

  ‘I don’t think that is very good talk to be had at the dinner table,’ Maree chided.

  ‘Except, my sweet pea, we don’t have a dinner table here, do we? Therefore any talk is acceptable.’ He smiled at his own cleverness until his eyes settled on his daughters. ‘Within reason, of course,’ he added quickly.

  Toby was sorry the story had ended. Frank was such a good narrator his story had filled his mind, driving out the anguish, if only for a little while.

  Maree was filling a large tub with water from the kettle. Toby climbed to his feet and went to her. ‘If that’s for the washing-up, Mrs Hocking, you can leave it for Paddy and me. It’s the least we can do after such a fine meal.

  ‘Thank you, Tom.’ She paused and gasped at her mistake. ‘I’m so sorry – Toby, I meant to say. Forgive me. It’s just that you remind me so much of someone else.’ She turned away, but not so quickly that Toby missed the look of grief on her face.

  Toby and Paddy scrubbed the pots and pans and Annie and Betty hovered close by, asking an incessant stream of questions about Australia and some of the bushland creatures they had seen on their trek out from Melbourne.

  ‘Sounds to me that what you saw by the track was a wallaby, Beatrice, not a baby kangaroo. What do you reckon, Pad?’ And the younger brother nodded his head.

  ‘Betty,’ the young girl stamped her foot.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘My name is Betty. Mama only calls me Beatrice when I’m in trouble.’

  ‘Betty it is, then,’ Toby said, and was rewarded with a broad smile.

  ‘While we’re on the subject of names, you had better start calling me Annie. Anne sounds far too formal. What do you think, Mr O’Rourke?’

  ‘Fine by me,’ Toby said. ‘As long as you call me Toby.’

  Annie gave a little laugh.

  Toby inverted the tub over one of the sideboards to drain before taking a seat at the campfire. He was pleased when Annie came and took the seat beside him. She began to ask a question about the horses, but was interrupted by her sister, who managed to squeeze in between them.

  ‘Toby, do you think that was a baby kangaroo I saw and not a wobalee?’ Betty asked.

  ‘Wallaby,’ Annie corrected and received a stern look for her trouble.

  ‘You know what, Betty? I do believe that was a baby kangaroo you saw,’ Toby admitted, and the girl clapped her hands with glee.

  ‘Are you boys pitching a tent?’ Frank called from where he stood at the back of his wagonette.

  ‘Paddy and I wi
ll sleep in our bedrolls by the fire,’ Toby said.

  ‘But what if it rains?’ Annie’s voice carried a tone of concern that Toby found somewhat pleasing.

  ‘Then we drag our bedrolls under the wagonette and go back to sleep.’

  ‘That certainly is doing it rough,’ Maree remarked. ‘I don’t think I could sleep out in the open like that.’

  ‘Paddy and me have always done it that way when out on the road. We don’t even have a tent, but I suppose we will have to buy one when we reach the diggings. I can give you a hand to pitch yours though, Mr Hocking.’

  Toby and Paddy climbed from their seats and helped Frank pull a large bundle of white canvas from the back of his wagonette. Then he retrieved the support poles and a longer piece of timber that would hold up the ridge. They picked a suitable piece of ground and Toby held one pole, Paddy the other, while Frank fitted the ridge pole and pulled the tent into position over the top. With a little hammering of pegs and adjusting of guy ropes, the tent was ready. Maree and the girls immediately busied themselves carting in bedding from the wagonette.

  Despite their tiredness, they sat around the fire for another two hours, drinking tea and discussing the countryside, the weather or the prospect of finding gold. Annie sat on the same log as Toby, with just enough distance separating them to allow for propriety.

  Frank yawned and leaned back, a fist covering his mouth. He stared up at the night sky and remarked, ‘Such a strange pattern of stars. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.’

  ‘What do you mean? Are the stars different where you come from?’ Toby glanced heavenwards to confirm that nothing had changed.

  ‘They certainly are, lad,’ Frank said. He got to his feet and wandered about the clearing as he studied the sky. ‘There’s no Polaris or Cassiopeia here. How do you colonials know which direction you’re facing when out and about at night?’

  ‘It’s quite easy,’ Toby said. He climbed to his feet and walked to Frank’s side. ‘See those two bright stars there, just above the horizon?’

  Frank followed the direction of Toby’s finger. ‘I see ’em.’

  ‘Those are the Pointers. They point to the Southern Cross.’ Toby lifted his arm a little higher.

  ‘I was wondering if that was the Southern Cross. They certainly are bright.’ Annie had wandered over and stood at Toby’s side.

  Toby’s finger described a line through the sky. ‘If you follow the longest line through the base of the cross for about four lengths of its height and drop your finger to the horizon, that’s south.’

  All the Hocking family were at his side now, staring up at the stars and practising finding south.

  ‘You know, I don’t feel like I’m standing at the ends of the earth now,’ Frank said. ‘From now on, I’ll always know which direction I’m facing. Thanks, lad.’ He placed his arm around Maree’s waist and they started back towards the campfire. ‘It’s getting late. Come, girls. Time for bed. Goodnight, Toby and Paddy. Sleep well, boys.’

  Annie lingered at his side for a moment longer. ‘Thank you for the lesson on finding south.’ Her smile was brilliant, even in the starlight, and Toby felt his breath catch a little as she squeezed his arm. ‘Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ Toby squeaked. He watched her walk towards the tent, very conscious of the swishing noise her skirts made around her legs.

  ‘What do you suppose that one is, Mama?’

  Maree followed the point of Betty’s arm. A little black bird with a ruby-red breast flitted through the branches at the side of the track, seemingly keeping pace with them as they trundled along, four abreast on their wagonette.

  ‘I don’t know, my dear. Is it not listed in your book?’

  Betty opened the almanac on her lap and flipped the pages furiously. ‘I can’t decide if it’s a scarlet robin or a flame robin. Do you think its wings are closer to black than grey, Mama?’

  ‘It’s hard to say. Why don’t you ask your sister? What do you think, Annie? You’ve been unusually quiet this morning.’

  Annie had her gaze fixed on her lap, but she looked up when her mother addressed her. ‘I was just thinking about Toby and Paddy. What a horrible time they have had, what with their parents being murdered and their farm taken from them.’

  ‘We’ve all had our tragedies,’ Maree said. ‘Or have you forgotten about your brother?’

  ‘I could never forget Tom, Mama. I think he is on my mind at least once every hour of the day.’

  ‘I think that bird is more black than grey, Betty,’ Frank cut in. ‘What does your book say about that one?’

  Maree knew that the sudden change of subject meant that Tom’s death was not to be discussed further.

  ‘I think that one is a scarlet robin, Papa, but I am unsure. I shall have to ask Toby when we stop. Are they still behind us?’

  Frank was the only one who sat high enough to see over the mound of their possessions packed into the load bed behind them. He turned his head and said, ‘Still there. Though they are a bit behind. Probably trying to stay out of our dust.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Betty said, and gave a little clap of her hands. ‘I like Toby and Paddy. They are nice boys.’

  ‘They are that,’ Maree said. There was something about the older boy that reminded her so much of Tom.

  They travelled on into the late morning, occasionally overtaking a solitary digger pushing a wheelbarrow in the same direction. Some moved off the track to allow the wagonette past and would offer a quick exchange of small talk and a smile. Others looked longingly at the vehicle, their faces shining with sweat. Maree was glad they were not on foot.

  A little before noon, they rounded a sharp bend where the track turned back on itself as it climbed out of a hollow. Here, the bush crowded in close on each side and Maree realised that if another vehicle were to come from the other direction, there would be an impasse.

  ‘Allo,’ she heard Frank remark. ‘Here comes a couple of riders from the other way. They might be able to tell us how far it is to Ballarat.’

  She looked up to see two horsemen on the track ahead of them. They each had their mounts in the wheel ruts and plodded along slowly. They saw the wagonette approaching and swung their horses across the track so that Frank was forced to rein to a stop.

  ‘Morning.’ The rider on the left touched a finger to the brim of his hat. He was a young man, maybe in his early twenties. A thin beard sprouted from his chin and he had an acne-scarred face and lopsided smile. His companion was a little younger and offered no greeting. He eyed the family on the wagonette, one hand tucked beneath a grubby waistcoat in a way that made Maree feel uneasy.

  ‘Morning,’ Frank replied. Maree detected a hint of tension in his voice.

  ‘Where are you folks from?’ the first man asked.

  ‘Melbourne,’ Frank responded.

  The rider gave a little laugh and glanced at his friend. ‘No, I mean before that. Where did you come from?’

  ‘England,’ Frank said sharply. ‘Now, will you move your horses off the track so we can be on our way?’ He lifted the reins to give them a flick and start their horse forward, but the other rider reached down and took hold of Samson’s halter, holding him fast.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Frank’s voice had gone up in pitch. ‘Let go of our bloody horse.’

  Maree felt her pulse quicken and pulled Betty hard against her side.

  The first rider continued as if Frank hadn’t spoken. ‘Ah! Being new to the Colony of Victoria, you won’t have heard about the toll.’

  ‘What toll?’ Frank dropped the reins and rubbed the palms of his hands up and down the legs of his trousers, a sure sign he was nervous.

  ‘This here is a toll road.’ He gestured at his friend. ‘Davey and me are toll collectors. Before you can continue on your way, you’ll need to pay us.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about a bloody toll. This is an open road,’ Frank snapped.

  ‘Please, Frank,’ Maree pleaded. ‘Let’s jus
t pay them and be on our way.’

  ‘I’m not paying them a penny. They aren’t bloody toll collectors, just a couple of louts looking to make some easy money.’

  ‘Please, Frank. We don’t want trouble.

  ‘Trouble is what you’re going to get,’ the rider said. ‘No toll, no passage.’ He reached into the folds of his jacket and pulled out a vicious-looking long-barrelled pistol. ‘We’re done talking nice, like.’ He pointed the pistol at Frank. ‘All your money. Put it in your hat.’ He gestured at his companion. ‘See what they have in the way of food, Davey. I’m hungry enough to eat the leg off a wooden chair.’

  The other rider let go of Samson’s halter and edged his mount down the side of the wagonette. He had a pistol in his hand as well, although Maree could not recall seeing him produce it. He leaned over the sideboard and pulled up the tarpaulin covering the load bed.

  ‘They’ve got a whole heap of stuff, Rob. Flour, rice, sugar, tea. We won’t be able to carry it all.’

  ‘You won’t be taking any of it,’ a gentle voice said from the bushes beside the track. All faces turned to the voice. It was Toby, with a musket aimed up at the rider called Davey. Davey made to raise his pistol, but Toby shook his head. ‘Drop it, or you are a dead man.’ The rider opened his hand and the pistol fell into the grass beside the track.

  The one named Rob let out a little chuckle. ‘You can’t keep us both covered, you stupid cove. You drop your gun, or I’ll put a hole in the head of this pretty little miss here.’ He aimed his pistol at Betty. The girl let out a whimper and pushed in against her mother.

  ‘Please, no,’ Maree said. Frank was half standing on the footboard, trying to push past Annie to place himself between his daughter and the gun. He paused when Rob cocked the pistol.

  ‘I don’t need to keep you both covered,’ Toby said. ‘That’s what my brother is for.’ He pointed up the track. Paddy stepped from the bushes with another musket aimed at the back of Rob’s head. ‘Your pistol, mate. Uncock it and drop it.’ The gentleness was gone from Toby’s voice.