Forgiving Michael Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-four

Wiseman's Creek, March, 1872

Tom and Elizabeth arrived home resolute. The thought of Tom going away from her, even for a few days, was distressing for Elizabeth but she accepted that he was determined to right the wrong his father had done to hers so many years before. Her heart lifted as they approached the gate of their home. Tom had planted honeysuckle against the eastern wall and it was now climbing over the verandah and still laden with sweet smelling blooms. There were native buttercups and daisies in the front yard and hydrangeas which had displayed a rainbow of colour all through the summer. Elizabeth sighed with delight. She was very proud of her husband, who constantly went out of his way to make life better for her. She hated seeing him worrying about this business of his father's ravings. But now they knew what it was about, she was sure that Tom would sort it out. 

     ‘Do you think your Ma knows about the safe deposit box?’ she said as they pulled up out front.

     ‘No. Ma never knew what Pa was up to. She didn't want to. It disturbed her too much. You saw how she was about me using the gold from Pa's coat. I doubt your mother has ever mentioned to her that Pa stole from them. I won't tell her what I'm going to do just yet. She'll only worry.’

     ‘I'm beginning to see just how much you are like your mother, Tom.’

     ‘Oh?’

     ‘You both want to make the world right for everyone.’

     ‘At least we can make it a little better, Lizzie. This brooch means a great deal to your father. And he wants to see you have it…and it would be for our Catherine later on.  That's worth trying to bring about, isn't it?’

     ‘I love you for that, Tom, but we don't know for sure if that's what's in the safe deposit box. Let's not get too carried away.’ She took his hand as they walked into the house.

 Over the next few weeks Elizabeth began to feel the weight of her pregnancy. She was folding clothes in the parlour late one afternoon, when there was a knock on the door.  When she opened it, she was shocked and her arm instinctively went around her stomach protectively. 

     ‘Joseph! My goodness. Your Ma will be glad to see you.’

     She stopped short as Mick came up behind his brother. She wondered for a panicky moment if their father might also be hiding out of view. Her relief was palpable when the two boys stepped inside the door and she could see there was no one behind them. 

She was aghast at how dirty they were and she wondered how she would get the smell out of the parlour when they had gone.

     ‘So what have you been up to?’ she asked, her suspicion hardly veiled. 

     They accepted her offer of a glass of lemonade, but she could see by the scowls on their faces, that they were in no mood for hospitality. As she poured them a drink, she was hoping they wouldn't sit in the large soft armchairs that Tom had bought so she and he could sink into them in the evening and read the papers. She had covered them with new cloth and had been careful that William and Theresa didn't climb into them with sticky hands. The thought of Joseph and Mick dropping into them, made her shudder. 

     ‘Not much,’ Joseph mumbled in answer to her question. 

     Norah came into the room, clearly beside herself with the joy of seeing her boys. She hadn't seen Mick since the night of the fire over three years before and she looked him up and down, her eyes wide with shock. He was thirteen now and as tall as her. 

     ‘How are you?’ she asked, her lip trembling as she spoke. 

     Elizabeth excused herself to check on Catherine, knowing the boys would more easily talk to their mother. 

     ‘Are you eating well enough?’ she heard Norah ask as she left the room.

Norah could see that her boys were not looking after themselves well at all. Their general appearance was unkempt. They were heavily tanned and the skin on their faces looked leathery and creased with grime. She couldn't imagine what might be living in their hair and she would have dearly loved to boil and mend their clothes. But she knew they would have none of it. They seemed to be visiting reluctantly, especially Mick, who kept casting his eyes about the room, as if scanning for some opponent who might jump out at him. She wondered what was really going on behind their uncomfortable attempts at conversation, their veiled questions about Tom. She was well aware of the hostility they had developed towards him over the years as he had tried to make them conform to his idea of productive young men. But she rather hoped that now they were doing what they wanted, they might be less contemptuous of their brother. 

     ‘He's working on the railway,’ she told them. ‘Working very hard to look after us all,’ she added, and then realised that it probably sounded more like a criticism of them than praise of their brother. 

     Mick did little more than grunt and Joseph nodded nervously after all her remarks, until he eventually asked what time Tom usually came home. Having established that he might be there within the hour the boys left hastily, as if they were afraid they might run into him. Joseph let his mother hug him and he awkwardly patted her shoulder. Mick stayed back from her and nodded his goodbyes without a sign of warmth. Neither of them had said very much at all in the twenty minutes they had been there and Norah was left with an uneasy feeling. She sensed they were in a hurry and wondered if their father was waiting somewhere for them, ready to get up to no good. Please God, she prayed silently, please look after them, for I don't know who else can.

     ‘What did they want?’ Elizabeth asked, coming back into the parlour, carrying Catherine in her arms.  

     ‘I'm not sure,’ Norah said. ‘They obviously don't want me to know what they're doing. The only thing I found out is that they've been out Sofala way for much of the time since I last saw Joseph. They say the diggings are still all right out there. Now they're back at Sunny Corner it seems. I'd like to think they're making their own living, even if it is digging for gold. Tis better than other things they might be up to, sure it is.’

     Elizabeth nodded, her face creased with concern.   

The track from the campsite where the rail line to Bathurst was being constructed was heavily wooded. It was nearly dark by the time Tom started for home. The days on the line were long and hard and he was always pleased to be heading home, ready for a quiet evening with his family. He loved to help Lizzie get Catherine settled for the night and now that she was so far along in her pregnancy, he had been watching her carefully, anxious that she wasn't making herself too tired. 

     The sudden explosion from the bushes took him completely by surprise. His horse reared up, shaken by the commotion. Tom came off the back of the animal with a thud and his head swirled in semi darkness. He was only vaguely aware of arms pulling and pushing him, rolling him over, grabbing at his clothes. As he faded in and out of consciousness, he looked up into the dark, hairy faces of three men, all with hats pulled low over their foreheads and rag masks drawn over their mouths and noses. They were shadowy, bulky, their voices more grunts than words. He was rolled so that he was face down, his head pushed into the dirt. For a moment, he thought he was going to suffocate. Then he heard a distressed whinny from his horse and realised the hands on him had gone.

     There was the muffled sound of retreating thumps as the men ran off into the surrounding bushland. He pulled himself slowly to his feet, pushing his hair back from his face. His hat, which had flown off as he had fallen, was a few feet away. Reaching out in the fading light he grabbed it and jammed it onto his head. He brushed down his clothes and looked about. His horse stood about twelve feet away, under the spreading branches of a gum tree. As he walked slowly towards her, his voice soothing her, lest she got spooked again and took off, he saw that his saddle bags were gone. Blasted thieves probably assumed he was on his way into Bathurst from the gold fields, he thought. They would be disappointed when they searched the saddle bags, for there was little in them but his tin lunch box, a tin cup for the tea that the workers boiled each day by the side of the rail, and the scarf he pulled around his face to keep the dust from his mouth when they were driving picks into the sandstone. As he climbed back onto the horse, his left hip smarted, probably bruised from the fall or the pummelling that he had received.  He rode quickly toward home in case the thieves decided they would have another go at him.

     His mother opened the door and gasped. She reached up to his grazed face and then looked down at his dishevelled clothes. Even though he worked in rocky, harsh conditions, he always straightened himself up and washed his face before he came home, so he could not blame his work. Nor could he hide his limp as he made his way into the parlour.   

     ‘What on earth happened to you?’ Norah cried.

     ‘Don't worry. I had a fall. My horse got spooked along the track and threw me. I'm fine, Ma.’ He saw no need to worry his family with the details.

     Elizabeth brought him a bowl of soap and warm water, looking him up and down with a deep frown. As she gently bathed his face, Norah left them to continue with the dinner preparations.

     ‘Your brothers were here,’ Elizabeth said quietly.

     ‘Both of them?’ Tom’s stomach lurched.

     ‘Yes. They didn't stay long, and they didn't say much but apparently indicated to your mother that they've been up north around Sofala…gold mining is what she'd like to believe.’

     ‘I don't like them coming here. I don't trust Pa. Do you think he was lurking about?’

     ‘Who knows? I doubt he'd risk being seen. I reckon a lot of people would like to get hold of him. But I think it's time you went to Sydney and got the safe deposit box sorted out. I know it's playing on your mind and I’ll be relieved when it’s done. It'll be hard to tell your Ma but...’

     She stopped speaking abruptly as Tom began to pat down his coat and trouser pockets, gently at first and then more roughly.

     ‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘Are you hurt somewhere else? I noticed you limping – ’

     ‘No, I'm not hurt. A bit of a bruise to the hip I think. It's not that.’ He sat back, shaking his head. ‘My wallet’s gone. It was in my pocket, this one inside my vest. I keep it there because it's well hidden. It had my rail workers card in it and …the key. I thought it would be safest to keep it with me, in case Pa came looking for it. It's gone.  Those thieves must have grabbed it when they rolled me – ’

     ‘What thieves?’ Elizabeth dropped the wash cloth into the bowl. ‘You didn't fall, did you? I knew it was something else. Why did you not say? Did they hurt you badly?’

     ‘Honestly, they didn't. It was just a shock when the horse reared up and I fell. It took my breath away for a bit. I felt them rolling me about but I didn't think they'd got at my pockets. Dear God, Lizzie, they'll probably not be interested in that key, might even throw it away. They'd have been looking for money or gold. They took the saddlebags, but there was little in them. Dear God, what now?’ He pushed his hands through his hair, his frustration tearing at his stomach.

     ‘You two ready for your dinner?’ Norah called. 

     Elizabeth patted his face softly, encouraging him to find a weak smile and they joined the family at the table.

     Later that night they lay, unsleeping, squeezing each other's hands, offering words of consolation in short bursts before lapsing into a restless quiet. 

     ‘Tom, I've been wondering. Do you think it's possible that those men who robbed you were…your brothers and your father?’

     ‘What? Oh, no, why would you say that?’  

     ‘They didn't seem to have a purpose for the visit and it's unlikely they just dropped in to be sociable. I kept feeling they were up to something. They left here about an hour before you came home. It's possible that they waited for you, isn't it?’

     ‘Looking for the key, you mean?’

     ‘Why not? They may have figured you'd keep it on you and just wanted to find out when you'd be coming home so they could get you alone. It’s not a pleasant thought, but possible.’

     Tom didn't answer for a long time. His mind was reeling. ‘I'll go past the spot they jumped me in the morning and see if there's anything about. Maybe they just dumped the wallet and bag when there was nothing they wanted…if it were thieves looking for gold, I mean.’ He prayed that's what they were but it wasn't hard to believe Lizzie was right. His own brothers! It was almost too awful to consider. 

The following evening, Tom came home dispirited. He told his mother he’d a hard day at work. She picked Catherine up from the rug on the floor and called the other children outside in the fading light, leaving him to talk with his wife.

     ‘I found the saddle bags and the wallet,’ he said. ‘Not fifty feet from the spot, in some bushes.’

     ‘And?’

     ‘Everything still in them…except for the key.’

     ‘Then it was them?’

     ‘I found this neckchief close to the track. It could have come off one of them in the tussle.’ He held out a deep blue rag, soiled and torn. 

     Norah nodded silently. She had seen it on Mick's neck the day before. Tom shook his head and gritted his teeth.

     ‘It was stupid of me to keep it in my pocket,’ he hissed.

     ‘Well, if they hadn't found it they might have come back here. Or your father might have come, and goodness knows what might have happened. It seems to me he's desperate to get it back.’

     Tom said silently, nodding and trying to gather his thoughts.

     ‘Now they'll likely go to Sydney and claim the box,’ Elizabeth went on. ‘Perhaps we have to let it go, Tom. I don't want you or our family in danger over this. It's just a brooch after all. The money's likely long gone and you have to be prepared that what's in that box is not what you and my father are hoping for.’

     ‘It means a lot to your father. And it meant a lot to him that I was going to get it back.  Now what'll he think? I don't want that hostility between us again.’

     ‘Pa won't blame you for this. It'll be fine, you'll see.’

The next visit with Kathryn and Hamlet was for the most part a happy affair. Hamlet spent much of the day enjoying his grandchildren. Apart from the few times he was spotted in the afternoon sitting alone in a corner with a far away look on his face, he was definitely more like his old self, easygoing and helpful. He had taken in what Tom had to report with a solemn face, his hands alternatively fisting and flexing. 

     ‘I'm not giving up, Hamlet,’ Tom assured him. ‘I'll find out what Pa intends to do with the key, one way or another.’

     ‘I think your Pa derives some sick glee out of holding onto something that's mine just to cause me sorrow. Though God knows what I ever did to arouse his anger towards me.’

     ‘Initially he probably stole from you just because he can't help himself, like you've always said,’ Tom said. ‘But I suspect he became angry with you for the same reason that he turned away from me. Because I disapproved of him…disagreed with him. He can't bear that. He hates to see that others think themselves better than him.’

     ‘It's not better than him that I felt, Tom. I just know that a man makes choices in his life and having made a few bad ones, I woke up to myself. Your father's gone on making bad decisions all his life. Any fool can see that.’

     ‘I know. It makes me sick to my stomach that he's my father. And what he's doing to my brothers make me angry every time I think about it. Sooner or later, we'll bring him to account. I do swear that.’

     ‘I know you're trying to do the right thing, Tom. I see that now. I'm sorry I doubted you. But I don't want you in danger, for your sake and for my daughter's sake. I'm guessing that your father is happy enough to have the key back in his possession. He'd have no need to have the contents of the box with him, as long as it's not back in my hands. I'm sure that's how his mind would work. So you just be careful, right?’

Thankfully, in the last week of June, Elizabeth's baby was born without the trauma which had accompanied her first experience of birth. With great relief and pleasure, Tom presented his second daughter, Marianne, to his young brother and sister. Norah helped the midwife bath and resettle Elizabeth, who was exhausted, and a little disappointed that she had not given Tom a son this time. Late that evening, Tom sat with his mother in the parlour, contented and thankful. 

     ‘You can relax now, Ma. It's all over and it wasn't nearly as bad as I was thinking it might be, thank the Lord. Why are you looking so worried?’

     ‘I was thinking of Rebecca, actually. Praying for her. Wondering if she's been through this…had a baby, I mean. I do believe I'll find her one day, son. I just wish I could be there for her now. Whatever's going on in her life, I'm sure there'll have been some hard times.’

     ‘Hopefully, she's growing up. That's what being out on her own will do, I'm sure of it.’

     ‘I doubt she's on her own. She was determined to find someone…to pay her a lot of attention, if not to love her. I feel I let her down so badly.’

     ‘No, Ma, you didn't. I know you won't give up on her, but I do hate to see you so sad.’

     ‘I'm not sad, Tom. Really I'm not. I keep trusting, and I've your beautiful wee girls to keep my hopes up. I must be strong for William and Theresa as well. They need a happy home. A better home than you and the boys had growing up.’

     ‘Oh, Ma, it wasn't your fault.’ His heart went out to her.

     ‘I'm not giving up on Joseph and Mick, either, so I'm not,’ she went on quickly.

     ‘No one could ever accuse you of giving up, Ma.’ He crossed the room and hugged her warmly.

     In spite of her worries, he thought that she looked so much better these days. There was a lightness about her step and her face was relaxed and rounded. Her coppery hair was streaked with grey, but soft around her cheeks. His memories of her struggling in the tiny hut of his youth, so often looking strained and tired, working her fingers to the bone, still pierced his heart. She would live out her days in comfort, he determined, for he would see to it himself. He had two wonderful women in his life to care for now, as well as his beautiful daughters. He had much to be thankful for and he was.

     But the unfinished business that he had with his brothers and his father had given him many sleepless nights as he’d pondered how he could bring about the resolution that he wanted so badly. As if reading his thoughts, his mother interrupted them.

     ‘Do you think you're father's all right, Tom? I mean, the way Joseph talked that day in Kelso, it really did sound like he's losing his mind.’

     ‘I've no doubt he's crazy. But that's likely to make little difference to how he behaves.  He's been like that for years. Believe me, if it gets too hard to be with him, Mick and Joseph will come back. They know you'd welcome them…not that I'd have them here as they were before. They'd have to settle down and work hard. I'll not encourage them in the life Pa's led.’

     ‘I know, son, and you're right, sure you are. Tis a mother's heart that forgives the unforgivable…and God's. But I know they must change their ways. I pray for them every day, I do. And I trust that in time we'll be proud of them. I just have to live to see it.’

     ‘You've a lot of life left in you yet, Ma.’ He laughed, loving her deeply and wishing she didn't have the heartache her husband and sons had brought her. 

To be continued...

Carol Preston

http://www.carolpreston.com.au

http://www.amazon.com/author/carolpreston

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Forgiving Michael Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Stoney Creek, August, 1868

The following morning Tom headed out early, leaving his family eating a hearty breakfast with the Pollards. When he arrived at the scorched hut, there was no sign of his father or his brothers. He picked his way through the hut and found what clothes and bedding were salvageable. His mother's books were ashes, as were the newspapers on the walls of the room that he had built for himself and Elizabeth. The table and chairs were charred beyond repair. He looked around at the vegetable garden. The cabbages and carrots looked as good as he had ever seen them. The fruit trees, too, were enjoying the rain and promised good fruit in the summer. The chickens and pigs were making their usual morning noises, waiting for William and Theresa to bring them a feed.

     He went to the shed and found the bucket of peels and carrot tops his mother had put there the day before. It seemed an age ago that their hut had been warm and cosy, the smell of fresh bread and steaming stew waiting for them all after their hard day's work.  He threw the bucket of scraps to the pigs and chickens and collected half a dozen eggs.  As he walked back towards the blackened remains of his home he determined that this would be a new beginning. He would not allow his father to destroy his family's dream.  Perhaps it might even be a Godsend in disguise.

     As he rode back to Stoney Creek, he wondered how to tell his mother that Joseph and Mick were gone. 

     Norah was inconsolable all afternoon, sobbing in Kathryn's arms. 

     ‘I'm sorry, Ma. I'd have gone back if Mrs Pollard hadn't insisted I stay, but you know sooner or later this was bound to happen. They have to find out for themselves what he's like. He's always talked about taking them with him and they've wanted to do it for years. They'll learn, and they'll be back. I'm sure of it.’ Tom wasn't as sure as he sounded but he wanted to calm his mother so they could make plans.

     ‘But they're only boys. They're not used to surviving like Michael does. And goodness knows what danger they'll be in.’

     ‘Come now, Norah,’ Kathryn coaxed. ‘You said it yourself just recently, sure you did. They have to start growing up soon. Tom's right. They have to learn for themselves now. I know tis hard but you have to be brave, and trust.’

     ‘I'm trying, Kathryn, but I've lost three children now. This is almost worse than having babies die…this wondering where they are, whether they're alive or dead, whether they need me.’

     Kathryn held her through another bout of tears.

     ‘Ma, where's the coat?’ Tom could restrain himself no longer.

     ‘Out on the fence. I put it there last night after we'd cleared it out. It smelt so bad. I thought the rain and fresh air might –’

     ‘It's not there.’

     ‘I put it just near the gate, away from the house.’

     ‘It's gone. It wasn't there when I left this morning.’

     ‘It must have blown off. The wind was bad for hours,’ Kathryn suggested.

     ‘No,’ Norah insisted. ‘I made sure it was well attached, and it's so heavy. Even if it blew off it wouldn't be far.’

     ‘Then he's taken it on his way through,’ Tom hissed. 

     ‘What?’ Norah looked stunned.

     ‘I tell you he's come and taken it.’ Tom was adamant. ‘Which is all the more reason  we have to move quickly.’

     ‘But where will we go? You said the hut's not fit to live in.’

     ‘It's not, but I've made some decisions, Ma. I want you to trust me with this. We need to leave here. We'll be putting the Pollards in danger if we don't. Pa will know that we found that gold and I don't know what he's capable of. I'm taking you all into Kelso. I'm sure Mr Atkins will put us up. Mary's been saying she wants to get work there. I reckon he'd give her a room large enough for you and William and Theresa to stay with her if she works for him.’

     ‘What about you?’

     ‘I'll take a room too, and I'll get started on rebuilding just as soon as I can. I might even be able to get some extra work on one of the other farms. I'll find something. And we know where there's a good crop of vegetables and fruit for the next few months. We won't starve,’ he said with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. ‘I can see to the animals and the garden. The cows will be fine. I can take care of all that, Ma. Don't worry.’

     ‘And where's the money coming from to take a room at the inn…and rebuild?’

     Tom swallowed and then raised his chin defiantly. ‘I'm taking this gold into Bathurst just as soon as I get you lot settled in Kelso. I'll get the cash and we'll use it to set ourselves up.’

     ‘Tom! It's not ours! You can't use someone else's money that way.’

     ‘Well, I can't go all over the countryside looking for who owns it, can I? I wouldn't even recognise those men if I saw them. And if I wander into some diggers' camp and say I've gold that Michael Kearns stole, I'd have every digger from here to Wellington down my throat. If the time comes when we find out who it belonged to, I'll start paying it back. But for now, we need to use it. I won't have my family with no roof over their heads while I've a pocket full of gold.’

     ‘What about the key?’ Hamlet said quietly as the family made ready to leave.

     ‘I'll hold onto it. Maybe one day I'll find out who owns it. But, perhaps, whoever it is has gone to the bank and claimed their box anyway, like you said.’

     ‘Maybe,’ Hamlet mumbled. He tentatively offered his hand to Tom in farewell. 

     Tom reached out and shook it gratefully. Elizabeth's face broke into a broad smile and Kathryn nodded approvingly.

     ‘Good things come from bad, so they do,’ she said softly. ‘Now you get yourselves settled in Kelso and we'll be in to visit before too long.’

     ‘Thank you, both of you, for everything.’ Norah's face was losing the swollen redness of her morning grief. ‘I'll see you soon, then. We'll be fine, so we will.’ Despite her words, it was clear her heart was breaking over her lost sons and daughter.

    

By November, Norah was more optimistic. 

     ‘Tis wonderful what he's achieved, Kathryn. I've never seen Tom work so hard, and he's had some help from friends on other properties. They've been very understanding.  They know what Michael's like and glad to see Tom so keen to rebuild. We'll be back in before Christmas, so you'll be able to come and see it all. I have a real kitchen at the back, and the stove is huge and the copper for washing is grand, especially for the cold weather. It's all so much better than we had before. Tom says he'd still like to add some extra rooms for him and Elizabeth but that'll come in time.’

     ‘I've never doubted Tom would take care of Elizabeth.’

     ‘I know you haven't, but Hamlet still has his doubts. I don't blame him for worrying that Tom might be like Michael. That's what it is, isn't it? And sometimes Tom worries himself that a part of his father might be in him, too. He agonises over it. But there he is, working on the rail line as well as keeping up the farm. How could anyone think he's anything like his father?’

     ‘I know he's not, Norah, but it's very hard for Hamlet. He's tried to put the past behind him…his own past I mean. He's tried for so many years to deserve his mother's forgiveness. So he struggles with the idea of forgiving a man who's never tried to redeem himself. He can't understand Michael, sure he can't, and it frightens him to think his daughter might end up with someone like that.’

     ‘Who of us can forgive a man like Michael?’ Norah's voice was hardly audible. ‘God asks much of us when He asks us to forgive those who don't deserve it.’

     ‘He does, and tis only with His strength that we can do it.’

     ‘I keep asking Him to help me with it, Kathryn, for I know I can't forgive Michael in my own strength. Not when his wrongs go on and on. Not when I keep wondering if my daughter's safe, or even alive. And the boys…what has he done with them? But I have to leave it all in God's hands, sure I do.’ Norah blinked away tears and did her best to smile.

It was early August the following year, and Norah was chatting with Mary in the kitchen of the Kelso Inn, where she had now been working for a year. Norah was proud of the way that her daughter had applied herself to her new position. 

     ‘There's a young man would like to speak to you, Norah.’ Bob Atkins popped his head around the door. 

     ‘Oh?’ Norah said distractedly. ‘Who would know I was here?’       

     ‘I think you'll want to see him.’ Bob smiled.

     Norah frowned at her daughter and followed Bob into the bar.

     ‘Hello, Ma.’ The young man stood with his dusty hat in his hands. He was taller than she remembered, but not so chubby. Probably hasn't eaten a decent meal since he left a year ago, she thought. She looked him up and down, afraid she was seeing an apparition and if she rushed at him and took him in her arms he might vanish.

     ‘Joseph, oh, Joseph. Is it really you?’ Somehow, her legs moved toward him, although she thought they would collapse under her, such was her shock and delight. 

     ‘Where have you been?’ She looked into his face, which she was sure hadn't been washed for months. His hair was caked with dirt and she had to admit that he smelled almost as bad as his father had the last time she had seen him. 

     ‘I'm all right, Ma. You shouldn't worry,’ he said. ‘I've come into town for supplies.  Pa and Mick are out near Sunny Corner, probably not for long, though. Pa likes to move around a lot.’

     ‘I imagine he does. And what is it you're doing with him? Where did you get money to buy supplies? Is Mick all right?’

     ‘Whoa, Ma. One thing at a time. Mick is fine. He likes the life…the movin' about.  We've found a few specks…not much. Sunny Corner's pretty mined out. But we stay out of the main camps. Pa's…well, he's not…himself. He comes and goes, if you know what I mean.’

     ‘He's always come and gone, Joseph. That is being himself.’

     ‘No. I mean…in his head. He goes on about all kinds of things. Often doesn't make much sense. And then he goes quiet, as if he's thinkin' a lot, but I wonder if he's just gone blank. It's hard to explain.’

     ‘It sounds like he's losing his mind, Joseph, and in no condition to be caring for you and Mick. Look at you! You're starting to look just like him. Please come home. Tom's rebuilt the old place. Please Joseph, come home.’ Norah's eyes filled with tears and Joseph looked away.

     ‘I can't, Ma. Mick wouldn't leave Pa, and I can't leave Mick out there. He's only ten and he doesn't think too well for himself, you know.’

     ‘That's why he needs to be home with his family.’ Norah felt herself getting annoyed.  ‘And you too. You're only a year older than Mick yourself, Joseph. You're not old enough to be – ’

      ‘I'm nearly twelve, Ma, and I'm bigger than you.’ He stepped close to show that he looked down on her. 

     ‘Yes, I can see you've shot up. I think you're going to be tall, like Tom,’

     ‘No. I'm not like Tom.’ His voice turned steely and then softened again. ‘I have to look after Mick. He wants what Pa…well, Pa keeps talkin' about adventures, about finding treasure, about going to Sydney. We can't work out why. He babbles on about it.  Seems to have something to do with Mr Pollard but he doesn't come right out with it. He goes round and round in circles. He hates the Pollards. I don't understand it really, but Mick's determined to help Pa do what he wants. I have to stay with 'em, Ma.’

     ‘I see. Then, there's nothing I can do except pray for you boys, and hope one day you'll...’ Norah leaned into her son's chest, letting the tears flow. 

Joseph patted his mother’s back awkwardly. He was anxious now to be away lest he give in to her. Life with his father was not as exciting as he had hoped and certainly not too comfortable, but he couldn't imagine coming back to live with his mother and Tom again. Too much hard work and routine. He knew exactly how it would be with Tom.  And his mother would be at him to read books. No, he had to take his chances with his Pa for a while, at least until he worked out what he wanted to do with his life. 

     ‘Don't worry, Ma. I won't tell Pa and Mick I saw you. It was just that I spotted Mary out back at the washin' line a bit earlier, an' I thought I'd say hello. Pa is real mad about…losin' his gold. But I know you and Tom need it to look after the young ones, so  it's all right.’ It was the only way he knew to tell his mother that he really did care about her and his young brother and sister.

Norah watched her son walk from the inn and then she collapsed into a chair. Within moments, Mary was at her shoulder, rubbing her arm softly.

     ‘Don't worry, Ma. They'll come back.’

     ‘Rebecca hasn't.’ Norah wiped tears from her face. ‘She hasn't even let me know if she's alive. What have I done wrong?’

     ‘You haven't done anything wrong, Ma. It's Pa. He's bad. You've done the best you can. And Rebecca is probably married, maybe got babies. She's sure to be all right.’

     Norah almost grinned. Kathryn would say that Mary had her mother's optimism, even when it was hardly warranted. But then, the reality of her grief struck her. ‘No, if she had babies and she was all right she would know how a mother's heart aches for her children. She would contact me if she was all right.’

     ‘Then I guess we'll have to do what you always say.’

     ‘What's that, love?’

     ‘We'll have to trust God and be patient.’

Early in November, two carts pulled up in front of the Kelso pub. The occupants of both were still chattering animatedly about the train they had seen pull into Bowenfels Station, just out of Lithgow. The inaugural train from Sydney through the Blue Mountains, had, for the first time, crossed the gorges and steep inclines across which the Great Zig Zag Rail line had been built. The Zig Zag was regarded as a major engineering feat, reported as being without parallel in the world.

     Tom had insisted they go and watch the first train come in, so having left Wiseman's Creek very early that morning, they had waited excitedly on the station while Tom explained the steep manoeuvres, sharp curves, ledges and deep cuttings, as well as the amazing series of reverses which the train would make before coming into the last station. William's eyes had been on stalks all day. Now they were all very tired and anxious to be home. 

     ‘I'll just be a minute,’ Norah called to Tom, as she headed into the inn to see Mary to her room.

     She smiled back at the pair on the front bench of the cart behind. Elizabeth sat close to Tom, her head almost resting on his shoulder. They looked so happy to be together, apparently oblivious to Annie and Harriet behind them, giggling into their hands. It seemed that the couple hadn't a care in the world, yet Norah knew that there would be hell to pay if Hamlet found out that Elizabeth and Tom had driven together to Bowenfels. He was still hoping Elizabeth would forget about marrying Tom; that the pair would grow apart, rather than fuel their love. 

     But Norah and Kathryn knew the two were finding ways to be together in spite of Hamlet's directives. Hamlet was so busy with the farm that he had no time to check on what his girls were up to. And it was quite beyond Norah and Kathryn how Tom and Elizabeth managed to get messages to one another and find places to meet. They only knew that they hadn't the heart to try and stop them.

     So here they were, having had a whole day together in full view of the two families, except for Hamlet, of course, who had insisted that he had far too much to do to be watching a train come into a station. Norah prayed that he would relent soon and give his daughter his blessing, for it was clearly a battle that he was not going to win.

     As she climbed back onto the bench of Kathryn's cart, Norah smiled at young William. His sister, Theresa was draped across him, all but falling asleep. 

     ‘No news?’ Kathryn asked, her low expectation obvious in her voice.

     ‘No. I don't really expect that Rebecca will turn up there after all these years. Bob Atkins tries to distract me now, by giving me a loan of his books. He has a real love of poetry, you know. We have that in common. It gives us something else to talk about.’

     She clutched a small book in her lap. It was no compensation for her daughter but there were often words that helped her give voice to her hopes and dreams. Even what they had seen that day gave her hope for what seemed impossible. If men could make a train climb up a mountain, then, surely, she would one day hold her lost children in her arms again. 

Just before Christmas, Johnny Pollard returned home from Wellington, where he had been living for eighteen months. He had stayed on after the stock drive to work on one of the larger properties in that area. Hamlet had been very disappointed, sensing the future of his farm collapsing bit by bit. However, this year Johnny had a greater surprise for his parents. He brought with him his wife of five months. He and Suzannah O'Neil had been married in July in Wellington, with the approval and permission of Susannah's parents, Johnny assured his family, who had all been gaping at the young girl since she’d walked in the door half hour before. 

     ‘Tis just a bit of a shock, son.’ Kathryn gathered her wits about her and ushered the couple into their small parlour.

     Susannah looked no more than seventeen; a pretty faced, fair haired girl with a broad Scottish accent. Kathryn wanted to hear all the details of how the couple had met, and the answer to a dozen other questions about her son's life over the past year or so.  Hamlet wanted to know if his son was coming back to help on the farm and once Johnny had indicated that they would like to stay, his father visibly relaxed, an almost forgotten smile creeping across his face. 

     ‘At least for a while,’ Johnny continued, his manner apologetic. ‘Susannah needs to be settled. We have a baby coming, and she could do with some help…from Ma, if that's all right with you two.’

     ‘Of course it is,’ Kathryn assured them, her face lighting up. T'will be grand to have a wee one around again, won't it, girls?’

     Harriet and Annie nodded in unison. 

     The thought of becoming a grandmother was very exciting for Kathryn and she felt sure this would give Hamlet new hope for the future. Johnny and Susannah's faces broke into broad smiles of relief and the atmosphere in the house was brighter than it had been for months. 

Elizabeth wondered if the focus on her brother and new sister-in-law might be a welcome thing for her as well. Surely, now that her father had his son back working with him and was going to be a grandfather, his unreasonable rage about her desire to marry Tom would weaken. 

     The moment for testing her hopes came toward the end of January.

     ‘Are you sure?’ Tom asked, his face showing both joy and fear.

     ‘Not absolutely, but the signs are there,’ she answered. ‘I feel very ill and it's hard to hide from Ma. She'll know soon as look at me, I'm sure. I thought we were careful...’

     ‘I'm sorry, Lizzie. It's become so hard to love you so and not…be with you. It's time for your father to get over this anger with me just because he hates my father. I don't even know why he hates him so much. It's Ma that's been hurt all these years, not your Pa.’

     ‘Whatever he says, we can't wait now, Tom.’ She looked up into his face, tears welling in her eyes.

     ‘Isn't it just as well I've been building that extra room on our place, then? I knew we would need it soon and though I thought it would be just the two of us, I'll be more than happy for it to be the three of us. You're not to worry, Lizzie. I'll make him understand.’

But Hamlet did not understand. He was aghast that his daughter had spent time with Tom in a manner that could result in her being pregnant.

     ‘You're lying. It can't be true. You're just saying this to make me agree to you being wed and I won't do it. I'll not have my daughter married to a Kearns and that's the end of it.’

     Hamlet stormed from the house leaving his daughter sobbing at the table, Tom trying to comfort her. 

     Kathryn followed him into the yard. She caught up with him at the woodpile where he was about to let his rage out with an axe.

     ‘This has gone far enough, Hamlet. We can't keep those two apart. Elizabeth wouldn't say she was to have a baby if she wasn't. So if that's the case, then they're married before God already whether you approve or not.’

     Hamlet's arms stopped in mid air, his axe waving about menacingly. With a loud sigh, he dropped the implement heavily onto the wood pile. His shoulders slumped and he collapsed onto a large sawn off log.

     ‘What's it all coming to? What have we done wrong? Two of them now, sneaking off, turning up with babes on the way – ’

     ‘Turning up happy as larks, you mean? Finding someone they love and want to spend their lives with? Is it so bad, Hamlet?’

     ‘I don't mind about Johnny and Susannah. She's a nice lass and he's working hard now to make this place their home. It's the other. I'll never accept a Kearns in my family, Kathryn. How can you ask me to after what his father did to me…to us…what he stole from us, what he's brought on us all these years?’

     ‘We've had some terrible losses, I know, but we cannot keep blaming Michael. We can never really know why we suffered some of those losses. I'm really sorry about the brooch. I know how much it meant to you and it can't be replaced. But the money, that's passed. We've done what we wanted to do. We’ve built a place to raise our children. We have a farm.’

     ‘Not like we might have had.’

     ‘And what if we'd had a place twice as big? What good would it have been? Just twice the work is all.’ Kathryn stood tall, her hands on her hips, as if daring him to argue with her.

     He sighed deeply and shook his head, knowing she was right and yet unable to feel the peace and acceptance she did.

     ‘I'll not fight this any longer with Elizabeth. But that doesn't mean I'll be happy about it either. Every time I look at her I'm reminded of that brooch. Have you noticed how much she looks like my mother? She's the image of her and I can't even show her what her grandmother looked like. I can't help but think of what heartache that rogue of a man caused. If Elizabeth marries Tom Kearns, the day will come when she'll regret it, I'm sure of it.’

      'You're a stubborn man, Hamlet, and a fool when it comes to this. You'll be the one with regrets. Surely, if Elizabeth reminds you of your mother then you ought to think what your mother would have wanted for her granddaughter. A happy marriage with a good man, that's what. And Tom’s a good man…whatever his father did.’

To be continued...

Carol Preston
http://www.carolpreston.com.au
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