Blood in the Dust Page 26

  ‘Toby.’ Annie released her father’s hand and took Toby’s. He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead, surprised at the coolness of her skin despite the perspiration.

  ‘I’m here, sweetheart.’ He used his free hand to pull a strand of hair out of her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.’

  Annie smiled. ‘I knew you’d make it. Mama said not to be disappointed if you weren’t here. But I knew you would be.’ She turned to Paddy who stood just inside the door. ‘Thank you for fetching him, Paddy. You are the best brother-in-law a girl could hope for.’

  Paddy shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable at the attention. Frank stepped over and rescued him from further embarrassment.

  ‘C’mon, lad,’ he said, clapping a hand on Paddy’s shoulder and turning him to the door. ‘Let’s give the women some room to work. There’s nothing more we can do.’

  They stepped out into the morning air and Frank pulled the door softly shut behind him as Annie let out a low moan. Toby felt her grip tighten on his hand. Her smile was gone, replaced by an agonised grimace. The moan grew to a suppressed scream and Toby looked at Maree and Mrs Guinane, wanting them to do something for his wife. Maree continued to stroke her daughter’s hand, smiling benevolently while Mrs Guinane carried the basin of water to the bedside and wiped Annie’s brow.

  ‘Closer together now, they are,’ Mrs Guinane murmured. ‘Not long, child.’

  Annie’s grip loosened as the contraction passed. The groan petered out and the smile returned to her face. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ she said. ‘This started in the middle of the night. I feel like an old hand. It must have been going on for six hours now.’

  ‘Seven,’ Maree corrected. ‘You are doing wonderfully, my little one.’

  ‘Toby, do you like the cradle Papa made? He has been working on it for weeks,’ Annie said.

  Toby looked over at the cradle where Betty fussed with the blankets, folding and refolding them as she waited for the baby in unusually quiet anticipation. He could see the quality of workmanship that had gone into the cradle’s construction. Each joint was perfectly mated, giving it great strength. The cradle sat atop two polished rockers. Frank had glued felt from an old hat underneath them, ensuring a smooth and silent motion. The headboard had a scroll of ribbon carved into it with a crescent moon and a pattern of stars. Toby recognised the constellation.

  Annie noticed where his gaze had settled. ‘Our baby will sleep beneath the Southern Cross,’ she said. ‘He will always be able to find his way.’

  ‘Frank has done a marvellous job,’ Toby breathed. He could see the love in the workmanship.

  ‘He gave up his tobacco allowance for four months just to buy the things he needed for that cradle,’ Maree said proudly.

  He felt Annie’s grip tighten again. This time she was unable to suppress the scream as the contraction gripped her and it flew from her throat in a blood-curdling wail.

  ‘Close and strong, they are,’ Mrs Guinane said, ‘Time menfolk were out of the hut.’

  Toby ignored the American woman acting as midwife. He stroked Annie’s hand and smiled at her, hoping he was giving her a look of reassurance, for he only felt fear in his heart.

  ‘Nothing more you can do,’ Mrs Guinane said, firmer this time, and fixed Toby with a steely gaze. ‘Time you waited outside, Tobias. The little one will be with us shortly.’

  Toby felt a spark of anger rise within him. Mrs Guinane held his stare and he realised he was up against a temper on a par with his own. Maree broke the stalemate.

  ‘Go now, Toby. I’ll send Betty to fetch you when the baby is here. There is no place for a man around the birthing bed.’

  Reluctantly, Toby backed towards the door. Annie still held his hand and her fingers slid down his own, prolonging the touch for as long as possible until only the tips of their index fingers remained in contact. Then, that too was broken. Another contraction gripped Annie as he pulled the door open and stepped into the morning light. He had to walk a long way up the hillside before he couldn’t hear his wife’s screams.

  Frank and Paddy had moved the horses up to the yard. They had the saddles off and Paddy was filling the trough with clean water as Toby staggered up to the rails, his mind still back in the hut.

  ‘It’s all up to Annie and the little one,’ Frank called to him as he carried an armload of fodder to the yard and tossed it over the rail. ‘Nothing you can do. When Maree was giving birth to Tom, I think I smoked a quarter pound of tobacco and walked about twelve miles – all in the confines of our kitchen in Hastings. I don’t think I was any better when Annie arrived into the world.’

  Toby looked across at Frank. His father-in-law stood facing him with a huge grin on his face.

  ‘I just feel so helpless, Frank. There’s nothing I can do.’

  ‘You got here in time, lad. That’s the best thing you could’ve done. Annie has asked for nothing but you since she first woke us at midnight. Now that you’re here, she can concentrate on bringin’ that baby into the world.’

  ‘I – I guess so.’

  ‘C’mon,’ Frank beckoned. Let’s go and put the billy on. I could do with a hot cuppa.’

  Toby lingered at the rail. ‘I don’t know if I can listen to Annie’s screams, Frank. Why don’t you fetch the billy and the tea and I’ll light a fire up here for—’

  ‘Get your arse down that hill, lad. Annie’s screams aren’t the only thing you’re going to hear. Pretty soon you’ll hear the best thing a man can ever hear in his life.’

  The trio wandered down the hill and Frank stoked the campfire into a blaze while Toby settled himself onto a log. Paddy filled the billy and set the tin mugs along the tailboard of the wagonette while they waited for the water to boil.

  A series of groans and screams came from the hut, interspersed with muffled words of encouragement from Maree and Mrs Guinane. Toby sipped at his tea and tried to block out the noise. Frank was telling a little anecdote about the birth of Betty, but Toby was only half listening.

  Annie let out a long, loud groan. In his mind, Toby could see every sinew in his wife’s neck standing out as she struggled with the Herculean task. Then he heard Mrs Guinane’s voice.

  ‘This will be the last one, girl. The baby is crowning. One more big push with the next contraction.’

  He could hear Annie panting as if she had just run all the way up from the creek, the air hissing in and out of her lungs. The sounds grew closer together until they merged into another drawn-out groan.

  ‘This is it, girl,’ Mrs Guinane shouted. ‘Push.’

  Annie’s groan went on and on. Through it all Toby could hear the words of encouragement offered by Maree and Mrs Guinane. Then a strange thing happened. Annie’s groan of agony changed into a peal of laughter. Maree squealed as the laughter died away, but he was unsure if it was with terror or pleasure.

  Toby jumped to his feet and turned towards the hut, took two paces and turned for the horse yard. He checked himself and turned back for the hut, determined to enter and find out what was going on. A new noise stopped him.

  A very loud and indignant wail penetrated the morning quiet. Toby stood still as he listened. He heard it gurgle and strain as a fresh breath forced its way into unused lungs, and then the wail continued on again, gathering strength with each new breath. It took several seconds before he realised he was listening to the first cries of his child.

  ‘There it is.’ Frank jumped to his feet and pumped Toby’s arm up and down. ‘Congratulations, lad.’

  Paddy rushed across and swept his brother into a huge bear hug, lifted him off his feet and swung him about like a rag doll. He only stopped when the door of the hut opened and Betty rushed down the steps.

  ‘It’s a boy!’ She yelled the words as she sprinted towards Toby. ‘It’s a boy!’

  Paddy placed his brother back on the ground and Betty danced about excitedly.

  ‘It’s a boy! It’s a boy!’ She squealed as her father pick
ed her up in his arms and hugged her. ‘Oh, Papa, I have a little nephew.’

  ‘I know, Princess, I know.’

  ‘Is Annie all right? Toby asked.

  Before Betty could answer, Maree appeared in the doorway of the hut. She rushed over, embraced Toby and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  ‘Congratulations, Mr O’Rourke. You have a baby boy. Oh, he’s just beautiful.’

  ‘I hope you’re saving some of those for me, Mrs Hocking?’ Frank asked.

  ‘Certainly, Mr Hocking.’ Maree swooped out of Toby’s arms and into Frank’s. ‘We have a grandson. You always wanted a grandson.’

  ‘What about Annie?’ Toby asked again.

  ‘She’s fine, love,’ Maree spoke the words he wanted to hear. ‘I have to go back inside and get her cleaned up. I’ll call you as soon as you can come in.’

  It seemed like hours before Betty appeared in the doorway and beckoned Toby over. When Frank and Paddy went to follow, the girl stood in their path.

  ‘Mrs Guinane says for only Toby to come in. The baby is feeding.’

  Frank looked set to protest, but thought better of it. He and Paddy went back to the campfire as Toby stepped into the hut.

  Annie was still on the bed, much as he had last seen her. She was still propped up by a collection of pillows behind her head, but now she sat upright and her legs were beneath the covers. Toby noticed that the bedclothes had been changed. These were crisp and white where the others had been sweat-stained and rumpled. Mrs Guinane stepped out through the back door into the little storeroom with the old bedclothes. Toby could see bloodstains showing and felt a pang of concern, but looking back to Annie and the serene smile on her face he knew everything was all right. She held the bundled infant across her chest, one breast exposed through the open bodice of her nightdress as Toby’s son suckled hungrily, making greedy little gulping noises. Only the baby’s head showed, the skin a blotchy mass of colour ranging from purple to pink. He saw the little nose pushed up against Annie’s breast and a gasp escaped his lips.

  That nose looks just like mine.

  Annie held out a hand to him. He took it and sat on the bed beside her and his son. The baby never broke his rhythm.

  ‘Isn’t he the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, Toby?’ Annie let go of Toby’s hand to stroke the tiny head where a mane of dark hair showed.

  ‘Yes – yes he is.’

  The baby finished feeding and turned his head towards his father. Maree had told him some time ago that newborn babies are unable to see anything for many days, but he couldn’t help but think his son was studying him with those piercing blue eyes.

  ‘This is your papa.’ Annie looked up at Toby. ‘Want to hold him?’

  ‘I don’t—I wouldn’t know how,’ Toby stammered.

  ‘Just like me, silly,’ Annie said and passed their son to him.

  Toby took the infant in his arms and held him like he was the most delicate thing in the world.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about a name for him,’ Annie said once Toby had settled.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ Toby muttered, not taking his eyes off his son.

  ‘I thought we could call him Sean, after your father.’

  He looked at Annie then. She had a knowing smile on her face and reached out to squeeze his arm. ‘I thought it would mean a lot to you.’

  ‘It does, Annie.’ Toby nearly choked on the words. Another Sean O’Rourke in the world. His mother and father would have been proud.

  His reverie was broken by a loud knocking at the door, followed by Frank’s indignant request.

  ‘Can a grandfather see his flamin’ grandson yet, or not?’

  As the rostered cook for the week, Jim released Toby from his duties an hour early so that he could attend to the evening meal. By the time he heard Hissing Harriet grind to a stop and the relief valve open, he had chops sizzling in the pan and a damper baking in a camp oven. Soon the men wandered over, shaking sawdust from their hair and clothing.

  ‘Smells good, lad,’ Jim said as he settled into his usual place.

  The men sat around the campfire and Toby dished out their meals. There was no conversation as they ate ravenously, but as they finished and Toby collected the plates, the banter sparked up again.

  ‘I’ll bet young Sean’s growing,’ Paul said between bites of damper.

  ‘Sure is,’ Toby said. ‘Every Sunday it looks like he’s doubled his size.’

  ‘I suppose Annie is busy with him all the time?’ Horrie asked. ‘Too busy to bake one of her famous cakes?’

  ‘I’ll suggest it to her next Sunday, Horrie.’

  ‘That would be wonderful. No offence, mate, but she’s a better cook than you.’

  Toby laughed. ‘None taken. I could do with a bit of Annie’s cooking myself.’

  They chatted idly into the evening, until Jim produced a bottle of rum and handed around the pannikins.

  ‘A couple of nobblers to bring a good night’s sleep,’ he suggested, pouring a good dram into his pannikin, before passing the bottle on. When everyone had rum in their cups, he raised a toast.

  ‘To the health of Sean O’Rourke.’ And the others followed his example as Toby smiled with fatherly pride. Toasting his son’s health had become a nightly ritual at the mill.

  ‘Hello, the camp.’

  The voice came out of the darkness. Toby thought he recognised a familiar lilt.

  ‘Come on in,’ Jim called and climbed to his feet. The others did the same.

  A lone figure on horseback emerged out of the darkness. Sergeant McTavish reined his horse in by the campfire. ‘Is this where Toby O’Rourke works?’

  ‘I’m here, Sergeant.’ Toby lifted a hand in greeting.

  ‘Thank God.’ McTavish swung from his horse. ‘Frank gave me rough directions, but I wasn’t sure.’

  ‘Frank? Is everything all right in Ballarat?’ Toby stepped across and gripped the policeman’s arm.

  ‘No—well, yes, everything’s all right with your family, Toby. There is trouble on the diggings tonight, though.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Jim asked.

  ‘The miners rioted over the outcome of a murder trial and burnt a hotel to the ground.’ McTavish noticed the look on Toby’s face. ‘Don’t worry, laddie. Your family are well out of it. I’ve been tied up with another matter. I thought you might be interested to know I have a man in custody. Tall fellow with a patch over his left eye.’

  ‘That sounds like one of the coves who duffed our cattle,’ Toby said. ‘He had a friend with little pig eyes and glasses, and only one hand.’

  ‘Had a friend is right,’ McTavish said. ‘The fellow in custody stabbed him over a card game in one of the grog shops. He’s dead. Sounds like the fellow you just described. I thought you might want to come and have a look at this bastard. Has to be tonight, though. He’s being transported to Melbourne in the morning.’

  Scotchy sat chained to a large gum tree at Government Camp along with several other men. Toby recognised him instantly. He had his back to the tree, a heavy chain looped through a set of darbies on his wrists. Toby and McTavish tied their horses to a rail near the gold commissioner’s tent, but a constable approached McTavish before they could walk to the tree.

  ‘Super wants to see you, Sarge. Something about the paperwork going to Melbourne tomorrow.’

  McTavish gave Toby an apologetic smile. ‘I won’t be a minute, laddie.’ He followed the constable towards a row of tents.

  Toby watched McTavish go, then turned his attention back to Scotchy. The duffer hadn’t moved and looked like he was asleep, his chin lowered to his chest. Toby knew he should wait for McTavish, but he wanted to confront this man who had caused so much heartache.

  Scotchy didn’t bother to look up at his approach. Toby wanted to kick him in the ribs and the head and go on kicking until he was a bleeding, dying mess. He swung a booted foot, but aimed for Scotchy’s thigh.

  Scotchy let out a yelp of pain and glared up at Toby. ‘Yo
u little bastard. If I wasn’t chained up I’d—’

  ‘Did you get a good price for my cattle, Scotchy?’

  The duffer studied Toby’s face, squinting up at him with his eye. ‘Who are you? How do you know my name?’

  ‘You don’t remember me, do you, Scotchy?’

  Scotchy held Toby’s stare for a few more seconds, then shook his head. ‘You’ll have to refresh my memory.’

  ‘You don’t remember me, but I remember you. You and that bastard Dundas tied me and my brother to a tree and ran off with our cattle to the Bendigo Creek diggings.’

  Scotchy’s eye widened as he made the connection. The briefest hint of a smile played over his face. ‘You had a mute brother, didn’t you?’

  Toby nodded.

  ‘The last time I laid eyes on you, you were hollering all sorts of obscenities at me. That was just before Dundas and me rode away with your herd of scrawny cattle. If I remember rightly, we didn’t get too good a price from the butcher at Bendigo. They was too thin, he said. That butcher was more of a thief than us.’

  ‘You did more than just steal a few head of cattle from some boys,’ Toby spat at him. ‘My brother and me, we lost our home because we couldn’t pay back a debt owed against our land.’

  Scotchy turned his head away. For a moment Toby thought the duffer was feeling guilt, but realised he was beyond any such emotion. He knew Scotchy would kill a man for the few coins in his pocket and think nothing of leaving his wife and children destitute.

  ‘This man,’ Scotchy turned back to Toby, ‘the one you owed the debt to. Was he that stocky old fellow with silver hair Dundas and me was chatting to outside the pub?’

  ‘Yes—yes, he was.’

  A chuckle escaped Scotchy’s lips and he shook his head. ‘So that was the old man’s plan. He did tell us we would be helping him out with some larger scheme. If I’d known what it was, I would have made the old boy pay double.’