Blood in the Dust Page 24

  ‘Hang on a moment.’

  He turned to see the foreman scratching his chin thoughtfully. ‘I was putting away a few nobblers in O’Malley’s last week. Fellow I got talking to said he was starting up a sawmill. Poor cove was complaining about not having enough workers.’

  ‘Did he say where this sawmill is?’ Toby asked.

  ‘About four miles west of here, just off the main track.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Toby said, and swung into the saddle.

  A whooshing, clanking rhythm led Toby the last mile to the sawmill. A steam engine puffed away in a pit beneath a crude bark shelter, running a huge saw blade. Two men were feeding a log onto the blade, sawdust flying in every direction. Toby looped Moonlight’s reins over a branch and watched them work. One of the men noticed Toby standing by the engine and pointed him out to the other. They completed their cut, then the older man climbed out of the pit.

  ‘If you’re after timber, young fella, we won’t have any to spare till after we fill this order for the Tudor Rose Hotel.’

  ‘Actually, I’m looking for a job,’ Toby said. ‘The foreman at the yards by Pennyweight Hill said you were looking for workers.’

  ‘Am I ever?’ The man’s face broke into a grin. ‘There’s only me an’ Horrie at the moment. I put the word out, but everyone wants to dig up their fortune, not work for it.’ He held out his hand and Toby shook it.

  ‘Jim Clark.’

  ‘Toby O’Rourke. Pleased to meet you, Jim. I’ll give you a good day’s work for fair pay.’

  ‘You look a fit lad. You’ll get plenty of splinters workin’ for me, but I’ll give you fifteen shillings a week plus bed and board.’ He gestured over his shoulder at one of two huts sitting in the trees. ‘You can bunk in with Horrie. Hope you’re a better cook than he is. He’s bloody atrocious. Sundays are your own to do with as you will. When can you start?’

  ‘How about Monday?’

  ‘I was hopin’ you’d say today, but Monday will have to do. We have a big order in to supply timber for a new hotel in Ballarat.’

  ‘I have a few things to sort out before I can get away.’

  ‘Well you’d better get to it. We’ll see you on Monday.’

  Wanting as much time as possible to think, Toby walked Moonlight slowly up the trail on the reverse side of the hill. He was pleased to see the horse yard deserted. Only Patch was there to greet them.

  His mind was in turmoil. Was he ready to become a father? What kind of father would he make at twenty years of age? If Frank’s words were anything to go on, he was off to a bad start. Maybe Frank was right, that this was not a place to be bringing a child into the world. Toby prayed fervently that he would not be adding one more tiny grave to the many already dotted about the Ballarat cemetery. Then his thoughts drifted to Annie and he realised the love he had for this woman. He felt that together they would be an unstoppable force, able to overcome any of life’s problems, no matter what was thrown at them.

  He took his time unsaddling and tending to Moonlight’s needs before he shouldered the equipment and wandered down to the camp.

  Maree was peeling an onion on the tailboard of the wagonette as Betty stacked kindling by the fire. It was a scene Toby had wandered into a hundred times before and he felt a growing regret at the news he was bringing.

  ‘Hello, Toby.’ Maree looked over from her task. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth, but her brow was creased with concern. ‘We were wondering when you were coming back.’

  Toby nodded and offered an apologetic smile. ‘Looks like a good stack of firewood you’ve got there, Betty,’ he said as he placed the tack into the back of the wagonette and tousled the girl’s hair. ‘Where’s Annie?’

  Maree placed the knife down and turned, wiping her hands on her apron.

  ‘She’s been crying her eyes out all morning, Toby. I think the poor lass has finally drifted off to sleep.’ She inclined her head in the direction of her tent. ‘Shall I wake her?’

  ‘No, let her sleep,’ he said quickly ‘Is Frank down at the claim?’

  ‘Yes,’ Maree said carefully. ‘He and Paddy went down there after noon. Please, Toby, I don’t want any trouble like this morning. I don’t think I could stand it.’

  ‘No trouble, Maree. I just need to talk with him. I need to put things right.’

  Paddy was at the windlass raising a bucketful of dirt as Toby climbed the mullock heap. His brother looked up and smiled, hooked the bucket over the handle of the windlass and took Toby in a bear-like embrace, lifting him off his feet. Toby felt the pressure release and Paddy stood back with a scowl on his face. He pointed to the bruise on Toby’s face and shook his head.

  ‘No more fighting, Paddy. I need to talk to Frank. You take the barrow down to the cradle. Go on, it’ll be all right.’

  Paddy stepped back, looking unsure, but Toby held his gaze and smiled, flushing any fears away. He waited until Paddy had manhandled the barrow over the mullock heap, then stuck his head over the top of the pit.

  ‘Frank? Got a minute?’

  There was silence for a few moments, then Frank’s head appeared at the top of the ladder. He squinted in the bright sunshine and the layer of dirt on his face only partly concealed the bruise on his chin.

  ‘So,’ he said softly. ‘Finally come to do some work, have we? I thought you’d cleared out for good.’

  ‘I’m sorry about this morning, Frank.’ Toby ignored the jibe. Frank opened his mouth to speak and Toby continued before he could draw breath.

  ‘I know I betrayed the trust you had in me and I’m deeply sorry for that.’ Toby had rehearsed what he’d planned to say for over two hours, but nothing he had prepared came out. He lapsed into silence and Frank used the opportunity to have his say.

  ‘I’m not angry that it happened, Toby. I’m just angry that it happened now, in this of all places. I always knew you and Annie would be together. I just wanted it to be later, after we found our big nugget and could live in some place without tents or bloody great holes in the ground.’

  He climbed from the ladder and stood opposite Toby. His arms hung limply at his side, all aggression gone from his body, replaced by a deep tiredness.

  ‘She’s my child, Toby, and I need to protect her. It’s a father’s duty.’ He held up his hand as Toby made to speak. ‘I know I have a weakness for the bottle. And I know that money I spend on grog could be better used for other things. You made me see that this morning. I won’t be touching another drop of the stuff ever again.’ He went to where his jacket was draped over the windlass handle and pulled out the hip flask Toby had seen him drinking from in the past.

  ‘Since that cave-in, the dark has been scaring me silly, Toby.’ He pulled the stopper from the flask and upended it. They both watched the contents drain onto the earth at Frank’s feet. ‘I haven’t touched any of that today.’ He pointed at the shaft with his thumb. ‘I’ve got two lanterns burning down there. I still get jittery, but I can work. Hell, I’ll use three lanterns if that’s what it takes.’ He pushed the stopper into the flask and threw it down the hillside. ‘No more grog, Toby. We’ll need that money for my grandchild.’ His voice almost broke and Toby wanted to reach out and place a hand on the man’s shoulder.

  ‘Frank, I’ve been offered a job at a sawmill to the west of here.’

  Frank took a step back. ‘So, you are running out. I was right.’ The anger flared in his eyes and Toby continued quickly.

  ‘No, Frank, I’m not running out. I took the job so I can get a wage and provisions. More money than we can scrape out of this bloody hole.’ He used the toe of his boot to kick a few loose stones into the dark opening.

  ‘And Annie?’ Frank asked. ‘Where does she fit into these new plans of yours, a woman with child?’

  ‘Frank—’ Toby had been looking into the other man’s eyes, but as he spoke his gaze dropped to Frank’s feet. ‘Sir, I have come to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.’

  The silence dragged on an
d Toby lifted his eyes, expecting to see the rage building in Frank’s face, but there was only a blank, expressionless stare. Suddenly a light winked on in the depths of his eyes that Toby had not seen for some months.

  Frank said, at last. ‘Every father with a daughter knows he will lose her to another man one day. I never expected to be asked for the hand of my daughter in such a place, in such circumstances,’ Frank drew out his response, prolonging Toby’s agony. ‘Well, lad, you can have her with my blessing if she’s daft enough to want you.’ He laughed then, for the first time in ages, and Toby turned and scrambled up the side of the mullock heap in an effort to reach the camp as quickly as possible.

  Toby turned to look back down the aisle at the vision of beauty being led towards him on Frank’s arm. Annie wore a wedding dress her mother had sewn from a bolt of cloth purchased at considerable expense from one of the storekeepers. Maree had spent many long hours on the garment after Toby went to bed each night, for she had guarded it from his sight with a zealous fervour, proclaiming it was bad luck for him to see the dress until the day of the wedding. She had also guarded the cloth from the mud and dust with the same energy, for it was as white as a spring cloud.

  Toby took no notice of the dress. His eyes were fixed firmly on the woman inside it as she shuffled towards him on slippered feet. The bouquet of flowers in Annie’s hands matched the ones pinned in her hair – mostly daisies and daffodils. The bouquet had as its centre a single red rose the size of a man’s fist. Maree had approached an American woman named Eileen Guinane with a few shillings to offer for the blooms growing in paraffin tins outside her tent. Mrs Guinane had closed Maree’s fingers back over the coins and gladly given the flowers in exchange for an invitation to the wedding. She and her husband, Sam, sat in one of the first-row pews.

  Maree struggled to hold back tears. When she followed Toby’s stare and turned to see Annie coming down the aisle on Frank’s arm the floodgate broke and she let forth a heart-rending sob that set Mrs Guinane off as well. Both women howled miserably. Mrs Guinane passed a hanky to Maree and they sniffled and dabbed together.

  Toby had found Sergeant McTavish at Government Camp and invited him to witness the ceremony. The sergeant, dressed in full ceremonial uniform, resplendent with glittering brass buttons, occupied the front pew on the other side of the aisle. Toby had spoken to McTavish earlier and his breath smelled strongly of whisky. He could only hope the good sergeant’s influence was not enough to cause Frank to fall off the wagon. After all, only a week had passed since his soon-to-be father-in-law’s declaration of sobriety.

  Frank guided Annie to Toby’s side and squeezed both their shoulders in a fatherly show of affection before stepping away. The priest, Father Connell, waited for the sobbing to reduce to a manageable volume then opened his Bible.

  After the short ceremony the wedding party moved outside. Maree opened the tailboard on the wagonette, pulled by a horse borrowed from Blacky Pete, and spread out a luncheon of scones, plum jam, slices of roast lamb and thick slabs of damper. Father Connell brought a steaming kettle of water from his residence beside the church and they stood around the wagonette in the sunshine, eating, drinking tea and congratulating the newlyweds.

  Sergeant McTavish pulled a small hip flask from his pocket and offered it around. Toby smiled as Frank placed the palm of his hand over his cup.

  ‘Not for me,’ Frank said.

  ‘I would have taken you for a drinking man, Mr Hocking,’ McTavish said as he poured a good dram into his own cup.

  ‘Please, call me Frank, Sergeant. Used to be,’ he said, winking at Toby, ‘but not any more.’

  ‘Wise move. Wish I had your intestinal fortitude, but alas the spirit is weak.’

  ‘I’ll take a drop of that, thank you, Sergeant,’ Sam Guinane drawled, offering his cup.

  The sergeant tipped a generous slug into Sam’s cup and turned back to Toby. ‘There are a lot of reports coming in about our old nemesis Anderson. It seems the rogue killed a whole station of people east of Kilmore.’

  Father Connell let out a gasp. ‘May the good Lord protect us from such villains.’

  ‘Indeed, Father,’ McTavish said. ‘He tried to take the gold escort out of Mount Alexander some months back, but his plans were foiled. Last reports had him robbing travellers along the roads to the diggings, turning up at a homestead every now and then to steal provisions and horses.’

  ‘He should have been hanged on a scaffold by now,’ Toby said.

  ‘Back home, we’d have rounded up him and his band. Either that or shot them down where they stood,’ Sam said.

  McTavish raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s certainly not for the lack of trying, sir. The patrols go out almost daily, but the fellow has the devil’s own luck. And those blacks he’s with can hide a trail from our keenest trackers. They just melt away into the bush and turn up a day or two later, miles away from where they were last seen. Still, his luck must surely run out eventually.’

  ‘It would be nice to see the bugger dangling from the end of a rope. Beggin’ your pardon, Father.’ Toby said. He excused himself from the circle of men and tried to push down the hatred and anger lest it ruin this happy day. Annie saw him approaching and she smiled. The evil was swept away in an instant.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, taking his hand.

  ‘I am now,’ he responded, giving her hand a squeeze. ‘I am now.’

  ‘You get bigger every time I see you,’ Toby said as he manoeuvred the wagon into camp.

  As she did every Sunday in the five months since Toby had started work at the sawmill, Annie waited expectantly for his arrival. She placed her hands on her swollen belly and smiled up at him. ‘He’s going to be a big boy.’

  ‘Boy?’ Toby applied the brake, climbed off the seat and took Annie in his arms.

  ‘Oh, I’m going to deliver you a son, Mr O’Rourke. Besides, Papa has his heart set on it.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope you don’t disappoint him, then.’

  Annie pointed at the load of timber in the back of the wagon. ‘You’ve done well. Papa and Paddy will be able to get on with the hut.’

  ‘It’s only offcuts and bits of odd sizes. Jim’s a good bloke to let us have it. He even helped me load it on his wagon.’

  Annie took Toby’s arm and led him to his place under the tarpaulin. ‘If there’s anything left of the roast you can take it back to him.’

  Toby laughed. ‘He’ll like that, Annie. He reckons Horrie and me couldn’t cook to save ourselves. He loved the cake you baked last Sunday. Horrie, too.’

  ‘Tell him there’s more where that came from. Just so long as he lets you keep visiting us.’

  ‘Wild horses couldn’t keep me away. Besides, Sundays are my day off. I can do with ’em whatever I want.’

  Maree had baked a leg of lamb for Sunday roast. They sat about the campfire and ate heartily, the banter flowing freely.

  ‘There’s just about enough timber in that wagon for me to finish the hut,’ Frank said, gesturing at the half-finished structure behind the tents.

  ‘Papa is going to build a lean-to on the back for Paddy,’ Betty said.

  Toby looked over the campfire at his brother. ‘Your own room, eh, Pad?

  Paddy smiled and got stuck into his roast dinner.

  ‘It’ll be a storeroom as well,’ Frank said. ‘Can’t have the boy sleeping rough while we’re all in the warm.’

  Maree gave a little laugh. ‘He’s hardly a boy, you daft beggar. By Christmas I reckon he’ll be head and shoulders over you.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Frank said. ‘Paddy’s sure shot up over the past months.’

  Toby nodded. ‘Pa was a big bloke. Paddy takes after him.’

  ‘His strength is growing too. The other day he lugged the ladder all the way from our old claim up to the Eureka lead.’ Frank shook his head in wonder at the feat. ‘I thought we’d have a hard time managing without you, Toby, but Paddy sure makes up for it.’

  ‘How’s the new
claim shaping up?’ Toby asked.

  ‘A little colour showing every now and then. Some of the old chums tell us the real pay dirt is around forty feet on the Eureka. It’ll be a while before we’re that deep. If it wasn’t for your wages from the sawmill we’d have a hard time making ends meet.’

  ‘Just so long as my wages keep you and Paddy digging. That big nugget is down there somewhere. I just know it.’

  When they were finished eating, Toby helped Frank and Paddy unload the timber from the wagon.

  ‘There’s enough to finish the hut, lad. But I’m not sure what I’ll use to waterproof the roof.’ Frank gazed thoughtfully at the pile of timber.

  ‘Pa used sheets of bark on the homestead,’ Toby offered. ‘You peel them off and open them out, use a couple of heavy rocks to hold them flat while they dry out. Paddy knows how it’s done. He’ll show you, won’t you, Pad?’

  Paddy nodded and Frank clamped an arm across his shoulders.

  ‘Thanks, lad. I’m determined my grandchild won’t be born in a tent.’

  Toby worked in the pit with Horrie and the pair fed logs onto the saw, while Paul and Gary, two labourers Jim had hired, worked at the ramp, ensuring a new log was ready as soon as the last one had been cut into planks.

  Hissing Harriet drove the saw blade by means of a leather belt that ran from a flywheel to the blade. While the men worked in the pit, the belt hummed and whipped only inches from their heads. Toby was always conscious of it and never strayed too close while it was operating. Whenever the blade reached a knot in the timber it would jar and send a series of wavelike whip cracks down its length that could take someone’s head off if they weren’t careful.

  They had nearly finished the second log when Toby felt a jerk as he pushed it onto the blade. He eased the pressure, knowing the belt would whip about until the blade built up speed again. Horrie worked on the other side and he gave Toby a knowing look, glancing towards the belt as it writhed about like an angry snake. But this time it did not settle back into a normal rhythm. Like a cannon shot, the belt parted. Toby ducked instinctively and felt the wind fan his face as the belt passed inches from his nose. Horrie wasn’t so lucky; the heavy leather belt, six inches wide, slammed into the back of his head and sent him sprawling onto the dirt. Hissing Harriet whined into overdrive now the resistance of the belt and blade were gone. She howled like a demon until Jim jumped into the pit and closed down the main steam valve.