Blood in the Dust Page 33

  ‘It would seem our old nemesis is at it again, sir,’ Childers offered.

  Hotham let his hands fall to his sides. He turned to the window and stared out into the well-manicured grounds. The only sound in the room was the governor’s breathing.

  ‘How long have you been in the colony, Childers?’ The governor spoke without turning to face him.

  ‘I am proud to say I have completed nearly two terms, sir: five years in New South Wales and another four here.’

  Hotham fell silent again, but this time he tapped the dispatch against his leg. Finally, he turned back to the room. ‘Have you spent much time out in the forest country? What do they call it here – the bush?’

  ‘A little, sir. I was stationed at Windsor in the ’forties. We made quite a few forays into the hills west of the settlement to search out convict bolters.’

  ‘Did you catch them?

  ‘Most of them, sir. Some didn’t last in the bush and gave themselves up readily. Others, the stubborn ones, died in the deep ravines and gullies of the Blue Mountains and left us only their bones to find. Some we never found at all.’

  ‘You have had some experience in the bush, then, chasing down bolters?’

  A knot of panic tightened in Childers’s stomach. Was the governor going to send him out to chase down Anderson?

  ‘A—a little, yes, sir. But I was one of many soldiers. We had help from native trackers, local settlers – bushmen with knowledge of the land.’

  ‘Tell me, Childers,’ the Governor said, holding up the dispatch. ‘In your opinion as a chaser of convict bolters, why can’t we catch this scoundrel?’

  Childers relaxed a little. Hotham was only examining the ground from which Childers was to offer his opinion – an opinion the Governor now waited for expectantly.

  ‘By your line of questions, I suspect you already have an understanding of why the man is so hard to catch, sir.’

  ‘Let me hear it from you, Childers. Humour me.’

  ‘Well, sir, he knows the bush. He knows it very well. I have heard stories that this Anderson fellow spent a few years living with the natives he now uses as his henchmen. The Aborigines are a mysterious lot, sir. The ones I worked with at Windsor seemed to have some sort of affinity for the country they were born into, a sort of ownership that works both ways. They consider themselves to be part of the land, belonging to it just as much as it belongs to them. Aborigines know the land better than we know our own wives’ faces, sir. Not just the hills and valleys and geological features. They know its secrets. I have seen an Aborigine walk five steps into the bush and disappear from sight as if he never existed. I have followed a tracker through the dense forests on the western side of the Nepean River for two days and emerged in the exact place on the banks of the river we needed to be. A tremendous feat of navigation.’

  ‘Are you suggesting some sort of magic?’ Hotham inquired, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

  Childers shook his head. ‘No, not magic, sir. They have a knowledge and understanding of the world they live in that we can’t even begin to comprehend. This Anderson fellow has that knowledge, or at least he has access to it. If we were chasing him through the streets of London or the English countryside we would stand an excellent chance of running him to ground, but in the Australian bush I’m afraid he has a formidable advantage.’

  ‘So, are you telling me this Anderson fellow cannot be brought to justice?’

  ‘Not with the current methods we are using, Your Excellency.’

  ‘But what of the native trackers? Surely they can hunt down their own?’

  ‘They probably can, sir. But there are places in the mountains this Anderson runs to that spooks most of them. The police have tried several times to mount an expedition, but the trackers quickly lose interest when they realise where they are going. There may be one or two native policemen who might be willing to try – one from a remote part of the colony perhaps who isn’t subject to the taboo of entering a sacred place.’

  ‘But if a white man had this – what did you call it? – this knowledge of the bush, then he might stand a chance of success?’

  ‘Better than the average Englishman, yes, sir.’

  Hotham lifted his head and bellowed, ‘Pritchard!’ A moment later the servant appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Your Excellency?’

  ‘Be a good fellow, Pritchard, and fetch that copy of the Argus I asked you to keep for me.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’ Pritchard slunk back through the doorway and returned a few moments later carrying a folded newspaper in front of him as if it were a tray of drinks. He offered the paper to the governor.

  Hotham opened the paper and flicked through several pages until he found what he was looking for.

  ‘Here, Childers, in this article there is mention of a bushman who helped to track down some vile creature in very rugged country. Where was it?’ Hotham squinted as he scanned the article. ‘Why do they always have to make the print so fine—Ah! Here it is, this fellow O’Rourke. He seems to have some knowledge and understanding of the bush and the ways of the natives. If you can believe the article, he has certainly shown his willingness to bring offenders to justice.’

  The governor offered the paper to Childers. He took it and quickly read the section of print over which his superior’s finger hovered.

  ‘Ah yes, sir,’ Childers nodded. ‘If the story is true, then this man O’Rourke is certainly the type we need.’

  ‘Get him, Childers.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘I want you to procure his services in the name of the Queen. Offer him the reward money if he will help us. I believe it is quite a sum.’

  ‘A thousand pounds if I recall correctly, sir.’

  ‘He can name his own terms, damn it. Just get him. If not him, then someone like him.’

  ‘I shall draft a dispatch for the commissioner in Ballarat immediately, sir. With luck I can have it out on tomorrow morning’s coach.’

  ‘No, not a dispatch, Childers, not tomorrow. You can leave immediately. Go personally and speak to this fellow O’Rourke. With the rebellion at Ballarat they will be distracted. Go yourself and see what you can do. I can cope without you for a few days.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Can I keep this?’ Childers waved the newspaper. ‘It might provide me with some clues on how to find the fellow.’

  ‘Yes, yes. Now, get moving, man,’ the governor snapped, impatient for action now that a course had been decided on.

  ‘Damn it! We shall have missed the ten o’clock service now.’

  Toby could not bring himself to look at the rough-sawn timber coffin and he cast his gaze about the graveyard. The Ballarat cemetery had not been untouched by the gold rush. A few shafts and mullock heaps were scattered among burial mounds and crosses. A great number of those mounds were small in size. This observation made him conscious of the little life he held in one arm and he increased the pressure protectively.

  There were many new graves dotted about. The Eureka Stockade had given the funeral businesses of Ballarat a roaring trade over the past few days. As they approached the cemetery there had been two services underway. The Camp had only released the bodies of the fallen to family yesterday, and the heat made it all the more necessary for a quick burial.

  Annie stood at Toby’s side. His free arm was about her waist, and he could feel the little tremors that shook her body as she cried. Maree sat on the far side of Annie. Father Connell had kindly produced a camp chair for the widow, and Maree endured the ceremony with a stoic quiet. A black veil covered her face and Toby could not tell if she was crying. She had not spoken more than five words since Frank’s death.

  Betty stood beside her mother, a small wreath of flowers clutched in her hand. She had roamed the countryside for hours to find enough blooms for it. She sobbed quietly and dabbed at her eyes every now and then with a handkerchief.

  Paddy stood opposite Toby, his gaze fixed firmly on the rectangular hole in the ground. He had turned u
p at the hut yesterday evening and gone straight to his bunk in the little storeroom without acknowledging anyone. Toby had learned from Father Connell that most of the diggers being held at the Camp lock-up had been released. Only a handful of men were being held over in custody, awaiting transport to Melbourne on charges of treason. Toby wondered how much the decision to release the diggers had been based on the sheer numbers held. It must have been a nightmare dealing with all the miners who had been marched in chains to the Camp. Whatever the reason, he was glad to have his brother back home in one piece.

  A man in military uniform stood in the shade of a gum tree quietly watching the service. Gold braid showed brightly on the man’s shoulders and the peak of his hat, which was tucked respectfully under his left arm. The Gold Commissioner himself did not wear a uniform of such flash and finery and Toby supposed this fellow was a man of considerably high rank.

  ‘And so we commit the body of Francis Hocking to the earth—’ Father Connell intoned. He continued in that high voice, developed to carry to the far corners of large churches. Toby turned his attention back to the ceremony and, when it finally concluded, helped Annie escort Maree to the borrowed cart.

  ‘You girls head on home,’ he said to Annie, and handed her up into the cart. ‘Paddy and I will be along after we’ve finished here.’ To save money no gravediggers had been employed. Toby and Paddy had dug the grave that morning and they would be the ones to fill it in. Two shovels stood ready at the pile of fresh earth.

  Toby waited until the cart moved off, and then walked back to the graveside. He thanked Father Connell for the service and tried to slip a handful of shillings to the clergyman as they shook hands, but Father Connell would not have it.

  ‘I consider it an honour to perform the service for such a fine chap. To accept payment would only sour the occasion further.’ He pushed the coins back into Toby’s hand and pulled his hat onto his head. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, young man, I have three more services to conduct before day’s end.’ He tipped his hat in farewell, collected his camp chair and strode away through the cemetery.

  Toby went to the shovels and handed one to Paddy. Together they piled dirt into the grave. When it was half full Toby stopped for a breather and wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked over towards the big gum tree. The officer still stood watching them.

  ‘I wonder what he wants, Pad?’ Toby gestured towards their spectator.

  Paddy paused long enough to take a quick glance, shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the task at hand. When they were finished, the burial mound stood a foot out of the ground. Toby packed the dirt down tightly with the back of his shovel while Paddy collected lumps of quartz to mark the perimeter.

  ‘As good a grave as any,’ Toby said, and Paddy nodded his agreement. A polite cough came from behind them, and he turned to see the officer standing a few paces away.

  ‘Do I have the pleasure of addressing Mr Tobias O’Rourke?’ the man asked. The gold braid glistened even brighter now the man stood in sunlight. His stovepipe hat was coal-black and the trousers crisp and clean with razor-sharp creases. They looked as if they had just come from the tailor’s. This was not a man who lived or conducted business on the diggings.

  Toby nodded and the man said, ‘Allow me introduce myself. My name is Childers and I am aide to the Governor.’

  ‘Of—of the colony?’

  ‘Yes, that’s the fellow. Sir Charles Hotham, Lieutenant Governor of the Colony of Victoria.’ Childers studied the two astonished faces before him.

  ‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’

  Toby was reluctant to take Childers to the hut. Maree and the girls might see him as representative of the forces responsible for Frank’s death, but in the end it was his only choice. Anti-government sentiment ran high on the diggings, and he felt Childers’s chances were better at the hut than anywhere else in Ballarat, despite the cool reception he might receive.

  He needn’t have worried. Maree pulled herself together long enough to make morning tea and even managed to reheat some scones which she served up with butter and jam. Annie found a half-decent saddle blanket to spread on one of the log seats so that Childers’s immaculate trousers might be spared some of the dust and grime. The Governor’s aide sipped tea and ate scones as he outlined the reason for his visit.

  ‘So you see, Mr O’Rourke, the Governor is convinced it will take a person knowledgeable in the bush – a person such as yourself – to hunt down this Anderson fellow.’ He brushed crumbs from his tunic jacket as he spoke.

  Toby looked into the embers of the fire and listened to the tink-tink of the cooling camp oven. He was aware of Paddy’s eyes boring into him from across the fire and Annie, who had been in the process of tidying up the crockery, stood stock-still as she waited for Toby’s next words.

  ‘I didn’t find the man who murdered Caroline Dunn on my own, Mr Childers. I was part of a larger group. The Argus played up the story of my bushman skills somewhat.’

  ‘I see.’ Childers looked crestfallen. ‘The Governor has rather pinned his hopes on you.’

  ‘I would think the Governor has other things to worry about.’

  ‘Yes,’ Childers said. ‘There is a substantial reward,’ he added quickly. ‘It would all be yours. I believe it is in the vicinity of one thousand pounds.’

  Toby was unable to hold back the gasp of surprise that escaped his lips. ‘As much as that?’

  ‘The Governor has allowed me to go as high as twelve hundred,’ Childers pressed on. ‘He is very keen to resolve this matter.’

  ‘I’ll bet he is,’ Toby said. ‘The gold the escort was carrying must have been worth quite a sum?’

  ‘Several thousands of pounds,’ Childers admitted. ‘There might even be part proceeds in the gold’s value if it is recovered. However, I am unable to commit to anything definite as the gold escort was conducted by a private company. I should think their insurer would be glad to see it returned. Their reward alone might even exceed the bounty on our friend Anderson.’

  A jumble of thoughts ran through Toby’s head. Here he sat, two years after his parents’ murders, and the Governor wanted him to help track down the man responsible. The memory of that fateful day was still strong in his mind and probably would be for the rest of his life. He could still smell the rancid breath as Anderson pulled him to his feet by the shirt front and grunted in his face. ‘Don’t be fool enough to follow me, boy.’ How Toby wished he could go back to that day. He would load the Lovell, saddle Moonlight and ride out after Anderson. That was what he should have done. But then he lifted his eyes to Paddy and remembered his brother’s wound. He could not have left Paddy like that and chased after Anderson. He’d needed to stay and care for his brother.

  But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late.

  ‘Can I have a little time to talk with my brother and wife, Mr Childers?’

  ‘Certainly, sir. Take as long as you need, but remember, I am due to depart on tomorrow morning’s coach.’ Childers made to stand, but Toby waved him back into his seat.

  ‘Please stay, Mr Childers. I’ll have an answer for you before you leave our camp.’

  Toby gestured to Annie and Paddy, and they walked up the hillside towards the horse yard.

  ‘You didn’t mention that this is the man who murdered your parents,’ Annie said, as soon as they were out of earshot.

  ‘Childers didn’t mention it either,’ Toby replied. ‘I don’t think he knows – or remembers. Anderson has killed quite a few people since then.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell him?’

  Toby shook his head. ‘There is no need. Besides, if he thinks I’ve got a personal stake in hunting down Anderson, then he may expect me to do it for nothing.’

  Annie drew in a sharp breath. ‘You’re not seriously considering doing this, are you, Toby?’

  ‘What else are we going to do, Annie? Your father is gone. Paddy can’t work the claim on his own. If we’re going to stay here, I’ll have to giv
e up work at the mill and come back to help him. We’d just be scratching about in the dirt like we’ve been doing for the past two years – with nothing to show for it.’

  Annie lowered her chin to her chest and he could see tears welling in her eyes. He knew he’d hurt her talking about Frank’s death in such a way.

  ‘We could all go to some cattle run. There is plenty of work for everyone there.’ Annie lifted her face, defiant again.

  ‘It wouldn’t be our place, Annie.’ He took her shoulders in his hands and shook her gently. ‘Don’t you see, I want more than that for you? I want you to be able to stand on the verandah of our own home. I want you to be the lady of the household, not answering to anyone. I want a place we can pass down to Sean and any other children, knowing we’ve left them something special, something we’ve put our hearts into and they can see it every time they open their eyes – they can see what we built for them with our own hands and our hearts.’ He let her go and turned to face up the hillside. ‘We’ll never have that working for someone else.’

  ‘I’m scared I’ll lose you. I’ve already lost Papa.’ Annie stood her ground, tears rolling down her face.

  He could hear the fear in her voice and couldn’t stand it. Taking her into his arms, he pulled her tight against his chest.

  ‘You won’t lose me, sweetheart. If I can’t do this thing then I’ll turn around and ride home. If I succeed, all well and good, but if not we’ll all move away from here.’

  ‘All right,’ Annie said, her voice muffled. ‘But you make sure you come back to me, please, Toby.’

  Toby looked to where Paddy stood by the path. Their eyes met and he could see the determination in them. His brother was no longer the frightened boy who had crawled under the table.

  ‘What do you say, Pad? We gonna chase down this cove or what?’