Forgiving Michael Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Stoney Creek, Christmas 1863.

‘What do I do now, Kathryn?’ Norah was beside herself. She had gone into Kelso a week after Michael left in October. It had been such a lovely day that she’d decided to go after church, to see Rebecca, perhaps talk her into coming home on the following Tuesday so they could have some time together. When the innkeeper told her that Rebecca had gone without giving notice or any indication where she was heading, Norah guessed that she had gone with Michael. 

     ‘She always wanted to go with him, Kathryn, but he'd never even considered taking her and this time he was determined to go after those bushrangers. So what would he have done with her? And why haven't I heard anything?’

     ‘Try to stay calm, Norah. Rebecca's nearly twenty, hardly a child. I doubt she'd have stayed with Michael. His antics are unlikely to keep her interest. Perhaps she didn't even go with him. It may have just been a coincidence that she left the same day Michael took off. There's every reason to be hopeful that she's all right. Bad news finds its way home quickly, sure it does. And you know Michael always turns up eventually…more's the pity, I say.’

     ‘I'm not worried about Michael. He'll be off on one of his wild goose chases. I just don't want Rebecca getting herself into trouble. I just hate to think about it.’

     ‘Come on now. You'll make yourself sick. You've the other children to think about.  Poor wee William's distressed with all this weeping. We're here to celebrate Christmas.  Let it be a comfort that God knows where Rebecca is and He's not going to be taking His eyes off her, sure He's not.’

     ‘You've such trust, Kathryn. I used to be able to hope for the best, to believe everything would work out but I'm worn out with it, so I am. I hoped for so long that Michael would become the man his family needs, and all for nothing.’

     ‘Sure, it's made your heart sick to be hoping anything for Michael. But there is still reason for hope. Without hope we can't go on. You gave me hope when I could find no reason for it, Norah. Now it's my turn to do that for you. But tis not Michael we can put our hope in. Tis in what is good and right that we hope…ultimately in God, for what else can we be certain of? Whatever happens He's going to help you through. You've proven that to be true before and it will be now, sure it will.’

     ‘I do try, Kathryn. I want to believe for my children. I can see already how different Tom is to his father. And Mary's such a sensible girl, not a bit like Rebecca. That gives me hope for the future.’

     ‘Then let's celebrate that.’

     Kathryn turned towards the door as she spoke, and smiled as Hamlet led a troupe of children inside. They were giggling and chattering together.

     ‘They had been watching a pair of wattle birds feeding their young in the nest,’ Hamlet said. ‘The mother and father take turns to drop nectar from the grevilleas into their tiny beaks.’

     ‘They're nearly ready to fly,’ Harriet exclaimed as the children settled at the table.  ‘Annie wants to name them but I told her they'll be gone in a week and we won't be able to tell them from the mother and father. Isn't that right, Pa?’

     ‘It is.’ Hamlet nodded, patting his daughter's head. ‘Now, how's that turkey going?  I've been watching him for months and he's given me more than a few nips. It's my turn now to have a piece of him.’

     All the children burst into laughter, jostling each other for a space around the table.

     ‘Pa can say grace and start to carve while I put the rest of the vegetables out then.’ Kathryn slapped her husband playfully on the shoulder. ‘And don't forget to ask a blessing on Rebecca, dear.’ She smiled at Norah who rose quickly to help with the dinner, hiding the tears that welled in her eyes. 

It was September the following year before Michael returned, empty handed as usual, except for a few trinkets. Norah was so disturbed that he did not have Rebecca with him that she could barely speak to him.

     Mary was not as impressed with her father's gifts as Rebecca had been when she was young and Tom excused himself, saying he had a lot of work to do. Michael had come home late the night before and fallen into a noisy sleep almost immediately, but now Norah knew he would expect the family to be ready to hear about his adventures.  Joseph and Mick would likely be happy to sit through the tale, for it would be a story full of danger and heroism which at six and seven they still found compelling, whether it was true or not. Norah kept her attention on William as she fed him porridge and tried to wait until Michael had finished entertaining his sons. He had said nothing about Rebecca but when he started on the story of his days as a hostage of the bushrangers in Robinson's hotel, her heart began to race and she imagined her daughter being tied up and ravaged by a gang of ruffians. She could hold her tongue no longer.

     ‘Where's Rebecca, Michael? She went with you, didn't she? I know she did. Now where is she?’ Her voice was loud with fear and the two young boys at the table looked shocked.

     ‘Ma,’ Joseph whined. ‘We want to hear the story.’

     ‘The story can wait,’ Norah said firmly, glaring at her husband.

     The tone of her voice quietened the boys but Michael still sat silently, as if hoping his sons would insist he continue. When it was clear he wasn't going to avoid an explanation, he sighed deeply and looked sheepishly at Norah.

     ‘She hid in my cart, luv. I didn't mean for her to come. I told her not to – ’

     ‘Where is she?’ Norah demanded.

     ‘I don't know,’ Michael admitted, his voice flat.                     

     ‘You don't know?’ Norah's voice was rising again and the boys' eyes widened. They rarely heard their mother raise her voice.

     ‘She was with me ’til Canowindra. I couldn't leave her in Bathurst, now, could I?’ he said plaintively, as if he was in no way at fault. ‘I was lookin' to find her somewhere safe ’til I could bring her 'ome, sure I was.’

     ‘And you call that a safe place?’

     ‘The gang didn't want to 'arm anyone. We were there for three days an' Rebecca was still there when I left. She said she'd wait for me, workin' for the Robinsons. Only when I got back she was gone.’ Michael's voice trailed off.

     ‘Gone?’

     ‘Mrs Robinson said she'd worked for two weeks an' then left…said she was comin' home. So I thought that's what she'd done. The incident with the bushrangers scared her…at least at first…an' so I thought she'd 'eaded for 'ome. It was about eight weeks after I left when I went back to Canowindra. I guessed she was well and truly back 'ere…an' I…well, I 'ad things to be about – ’

     ‘You had things to be about?’ Norah's tone was steely cold now. ‘You had no idea where your daughter was, did you? But you just went about your…whatever you do…and left her to suffer whatever she might have gotten herself into. This is the last straw, Michael. I can't forgive you this. I can't.’ Norah was crying now and she gathered William up from his chair and rushed outside.

     ‘She's not a girl no more,’ Michael called as she headed across the grass. ‘She’s a grown woman now. She can take care of 'erself, sure she can.’

     Norah could sense by his voice that he only half believed that himself.

Tom was chopping wood furiously when Norah rushed up to him with William on her hip. He stopped the axe in mid air and let it drop to the ground.

     ‘What is it, Ma? What's he done now?’

     ‘It's Rebecca,’ she sobbed. ‘Your father left her at some hotel out west and we have no idea where she is…whether she's alive or dead. What are we to do?’

     Tom put his arm around her shoulder. ‘There's nothing we can do about Rebecca, Ma. You know she wanted to get away from here. She'll have found herself work …or something. She's not one to go without what she wants. Please, Ma, calm down.’

     Norah laid her head against her son's chest. She realised he was head and shoulders above her now, taller than his father. She felt his strong arm holding her up. At eighteen he was more of a man than Michael had ever been. She could depend on him. Perhaps she could trust his judgement about this.

     ‘Do you think so?’

     ‘Sure I do. Rebecca's always been a mystery to me. I don't know what she wants. But she has to go and find it, Ma. She wasn't happy here, you know that. I could search for months and never find her. It's a big country. But word will come, you'll see. We'll find out sooner or later. It seems to me it was inevitable that Rebecca was going to take off.’

     ‘And you, Tom? Are you happy here?’ Norah sniffed as her tears subsided and she stood back and looked up at her son.

     His dark hair hung about his face.  He wasn't a handsome lad but his face was gentle and soft. It belied the obvious strength of his hardened body, his work soiled hands.

     ‘My life is here, Ma, with you and with this land. I'm happy, yes.’ He chucked William under the chin, bringing a grin to the child's face.

     Norah sighed thankfully. She wiped her eyes and hugged William to her, smiling through her wet eyes.

     ‘Tis fine, little one. Your big brother is right. We must let Rebecca find her way and  pray that God will take care of her.’ She pushed her hair back from her face, capturing escaping curls from the clip at the back of her neck. ‘I've carrots to dig, so I have, and then I'll make us a bread pudding with plum jam, eh? We'll not be moping around any more, so we won't.’

     Tom chuckled at her words, then glanced at the house. Norah saw his smile turn to a frown. Now his father was back, Tom would struggle. She knew he felt nothing but irritation for his father and she knew the feeling was mutual.

By May, Norah was pregnant again. She had not welcomed Michael's attention in their bed but had endured it for the sake of peace. Being close to forty, she was a little surprised to find she had conceived another child. But with the garden now producing well enough to feed them adequately, and the bit of meat they were able to trap or buy from the sale of their eggs and fruit in O'Connell, she was confident that they could manage another member of the family.

     It would take her mind off Rebecca, she reasoned, to have another little one to care for. Tom and Mary were a great help to her, taking over the household chores when she needed them to. Joseph and Mick were quite a handful, being young boys who wanted to run and play from daylight to dusk and both being inclined to be headstrong and reckless. William was a placid three-year-old, content to be with his mother, fossicking in the grass around the garden as she worked, or on the floor of the hut when she was cooking and cleaning. Norah reckoned she had a lot to be grateful for and was in a happy frame of mind the next time she visited Kathryn.

     ‘Tis only the five of them left to be teaching now. And William's still more likely to eat the pages than notice there's words on them,’ she chuckled. ‘I've taught the others all I know.’

     The two women watched Joseph and Mick, Harriet and Annie, all now between seven and eleven, as they wrote their letters with varying degrees of concentration and enjoyment, the girls definitely displaying more of both than the boys. 

     ‘And tis enough, sure it is,’ Kathryn said. ‘The older ones can read and write now and what more could they need that they won't learn from life itself?’

     ‘Yes, I can see Joseph and Mick are not going to have the love of reading that Tom has. They'll have to learn much from life itself, I think. They're all different, aren't they?’

     ‘To be sure. Tis a mystery how they all differ, each one precious in his or her own way. Soon enough we'll be seeing them making families of their own and we'll be grandparents, so we will.’

     ‘Oh, tosh.’ Norah giggled. ‘Here I am having a baby and you're thinking about being a grandparent.’

     ‘Don't look now but Tom is nearly nineteen and our James twenty. What were you doing at that age, tell me that? Having Rebecca is what. Oh, I'm sorry, Norah. I didn't mean to remind you. Have you heard anything at all?’

     ‘Nothing. I give her to God every night. I'm at peace about her, as much as I can be without knowing if she's...’

     ‘Don't think sad things. Just trust and hold on. And what about Michael? How is he at home this time?’

     ‘The same. Restless, sometimes funny and sweet, sometimes grumpy and critical.  Tom finds it hard. They don't get on at all and I can't blame Tom. Joseph and Mick are more like Michael, I'm afraid.’ Norah lowered her voice, checking that the boys were still engaged in their writing. ‘They wrestle and laugh with him. They believe everything he says. They seem to easily see life the way he does, which bothers me a lot. They go out into the bush with him already, just wandering, on the pretence of getting firewood or hunting for possums. Sometimes they come back with something but often I think Michael is just indulging their…or his need to wander about aimlessly, avoiding whatever work should be done. Mary scolds them all severely about it but they just laugh at her. Tom holds his tongue but I think he'd prefer Michael wasn't there so he could teach the boys to be more responsible.’

     ‘You've a trial with him, to be sure.’

     The women were interrupted by Elizabeth coming through the back door. ‘Did Tom come, Mrs Kearns?’ she said hopefully.

     ‘Tom is working at home,’ Norah answered. ‘He's mending fences today. We've had kangaroos breaking down some of them and the chickens are getting out. He did send this book for you though. Someone gave it to him at church and he thought you might like to read it now that he's finished.’

     ‘Oh, thank you.’ Elizabeth took the book and held it to her heart.

     Kathryn shook her head and smiled. As Elizabeth disappeared into the bedroom her mother's voice followed her. ‘Don't start reading that now, dear. You've chickens to feed, remember.’  

     When Elizabeth had deposited the book in some private place and left the house again, her mother was still smiling.

     ‘She's been smitten with Tom for as long as I can remember.’

     ‘She's only fourteen, Kathryn. Sure, you'll have us grandmothers before our time with your speculations.’

     ‘I suppose tis because I'll not have any more of my own that I'm looking forward to the next lot, that's all.’ She laughed.

      ‘Looks like your chances to catch Ben Hall and his gang have run out,’ Tom said.

     Michael kept his eyes averted. It annoyed him to have his son reading to him about bushrangers.

     The lantern light was dim and Tom held the paper close to his face as he read the article. ‘Hall was surrounded by police in bushland near Forbes last month and shot dead. Seems his whereabouts was betrayed to police by an informer. John Gilbert, one of his gang, was also shot recently by police. And this says that Mad Dan Morgan went south into Victoria, where he was wreaking havoc but a station hand shot him down in April just as he was about to get on his horse and escape again.  It seems their time comes, sooner or later.’

     ‘There'll be more, so there will. There's always them that are ready to take up where others leave off when there's money to be 'ad,' Michael grumbled. He wished he had been in town and heard this news at the pub.   

     ‘Even Frank Gardiner is out of action if I remember rightly,’ Tom continued. ‘He's the one who was jailed last year in Sydney…thirty two years I think he got. He's been hiding out in the Weddin ranges, near Forbes, doing lots of hold-ups, I've read. Well, now he's away for a long time, so he won't be bothering anybody. And he won't be luring people to catch him for the reward either.’

     Michael upended his mug and finished off his tea before heading outside for a smoke. He was irritated and restless. His young sons had all but fallen asleep at the table listening to Tom babble on about old news. He didn't want them to think there was nothing out there to chase after any more. There were always adventures to be had. One just had to go looking for them and if Norah wasn't so close to having another child, he would take to the roads again. One day, he would take his sons with him…not Tom, but Joseph and Mick. Young William was shaping up to be another soft headed boy like Tom but in the other two he could see the signs of real men and he would not let anything get in the way of that. 

Theresa Kearns was born on the 19th of November, 1865. She was baptised in the new Church of St Francis in O'Connell, one of the first babies to be dedicated there, which was a thrill to Norah. There was also excitement about the small convent and a school house where a group of Franciscan nuns were to hold classes for the local children.  Michael took no interest in the new church but was enamoured of his new daughter, who had large dark eyes and silky black hair, promising another Irish doll he could shower with gifts and charm into adoring him.

     Joseph and Mick practised every boyish, rebellious act they could think of to draw their father's attention away from Theresa, who they saw as a messy brat and a threat to their attachment to their hero. But by the middle of Winter, Michael's interest in everything at home waned and he was ready again to seek out the promise of excitement, danger and unearned rewards.

    

By Spring, the family had settled into a more peaceful routine and although Joseph and Mick were sullen and grumpy for a month or so after their father's departure, Norah relaxed into the security of being able to plan her days and take more control of her family's wellbeing and activities.

     ‘No, you'll not be going off looking for tiger cats, Joseph, for you've never caught one yet, sure you haven't. If you want Tom to teach you to set the traps properly, then ask him, for he's happy to show you. Then you check them regularly and wait for whatever animal God sees fit to give us. Wandering about in the woods with a stick is a waste of time.’

     ‘Yes, you will be coming to Pollards today, Mick, for you've to learn to read and practise your writing even if you don't feel like it. One day you'll thank me for teaching you, sure you will, for you'll be able to get a good job and make a living for your own family.’

     ‘We will all be going to church this morning, boys, for you're definitely not staying here alone and it's time you took notice of what's being said at church. You can't escape God, you know. He's watching over all of us and the time will come when you'll be wanting to talk to Him about your troubles and you'll be wishing you knew Him better, sure you will.’

     All of Norah's directives were received with the squirming, whining and resistance characteristic of young boys but Norah felt able to deal with it now that her husband's influence was fading. She knew that Michael would return in his own good time but she was determined to make the most of this space for sanity and order in their lives. 


To be continued...


Carol Preston
http://www.carolpreston.com.au
http://www.facebook.com/writingtoreach
http://www.amazon.com/author/carolpreston

Forgiving Michael Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

                                                                                            

It takes a lot of emotional    

and  psychological energy to keep a wound       

open, to keep a grudge alive. The longer 

I allow a wound to fester, the more 

bitterness, anger and self pity poison my 

blood and eat at my heart. Albert Haase

Wiseman's Creek, March, 1854.

‘Have you told Pa about the dance, Ma?’ Rebecca spoke with her mouth full of cabbage soup. She leaned across the table and dropped her chin into her hands as she swallowed, as if to keep her question between her mother and herself. 

‘Not yet, sweet.’ Norah answered quietly and immediately realised that the endearment she had used hardly suited her daughter. Not that the ten-year-old couldn't turn on sweetness when she wanted something, but for the most part Rebecca was a surly child.  She had grown more demanding over the past few years, more ready to screech if she didn't get her way and she was capable of creating a tension in the hut that Norah found difficult to deal with. She was still able to toss her black unruly curls into a pretty frame around her face and have her father eating out of her hand. Norah was surprised that she hadn't already wooed Michael into the idea of the local dance.

     ‘Why don't you tell him about it yourself?’

     Rebecca took a deep breath and sat up, seeming to prepare herself before she spoke.  Norah was somewhat bemused by how important this dance seemed to be to Rebecca.  Again, it seemed out of character for her daughter to be so interested in a social event. 

     ‘Pa?’ Rebecca ventured, her voice syrupy. ‘We're to go to a dance at the Quinns, over at Browns Creek at the end of the week. You will take us, won't you?’

     ‘What's this, me luv? I never 'eard of any dance at Quinns.’ Michael was only partly paying attention, apparently deep in thought about something else.

     Rebecca looked beseechingly at her mother.

     Norah smiled and nodded. ‘It seems they've got a huge barn and they've asked all the local families to join them for a dance on Saturday night. The women are cooking some sweets for supper, scones and such, and there are some locals who play fiddles, so…well, I think this is the Quinns' way of helping the locals to get to know each other better. The children are looking forward to it – ’

     ‘An' when were you goin' to tell me about it then?’ Michael's face turned sour.

     ‘Tonight, actually,’ Norah continued. ‘I'd almost forgotten about it until Tom read the notice they posted in the general store in O'Connell. Kathryn mentioned it a week ago and suggested we go.’

     ‘Kathryn…Kathryn. Does that woman 'ave a say about everythin' then?’ he growled.

     ‘Michael, she's my friend and we talk about things together. She just thought it would be nice.’

     ‘I'm sick of 'earin' her name. She 'as too much to say about everythin' if you ask me.’

      ‘Well, I'm not asking you. Now, what do you think about the dance? Sure, it'll do us all good to have a bit of fun, won't it?’

     Michael’s eyes glazed over and Norah realised they had lost him to his own thought.

Michael was wondering if there might be a good drop of good liquor available at this party. He was reminded of the dances on the gold fields with the pretty young singers and actresses who came from town to entertain. They were a sight to see and were available for more than a song for the men who were interested. Not that he cared for that sort of thing. It was after the dancing when he found better ways to amuse himself, when men with a belly full of grog had showered the entertainers with small nuggets, many of which ended up in corners of the dance hall. He had made quite a killing from those nights. He amused himself even now with the memory of it, until something his wife had said suddenly came into focus. 

     ‘Since when can Tom read?’ He snapped to attention and turned to glare at his son, who sunk into his seat.

     ‘Since I've been teaching him.’ Norah smiled proudly at Tom. ‘He's a natural, too, sure he is. Picks things up really quick.’

Michael slapped his spoon onto the table. ‘Well, he can put it down right quick, too, for I'll not 'ave no son o' mine tryin' to be a toff. Bad enough he's a mamma's boy, without turnin' 'im into some smart assed toff.’

     ‘That's ridiculous, Michael,’ Norah said firmly. ‘Reading won't turn him into anything but an educated man and that's no burden for anyone. I'm grateful my Mam taught me to read. She and Aunt Agnes both knew what was going on in the world. It's a good thing, Michael, and you'll not be denying Tom the privilege. It'll stand him in good stead when he's looking for work in a few years, so it will.’

     Michael was incensed. ‘Lookin' for work! An' what work do you think an Irish Catholic boy is likely to get in this God forsaken place? You dream big, girl, but tell me what readin' ever did to get you anywhere but to a colony of thieves an' toffy Brits?’

     ‘If all I can use it for is to teach my children to read then it will be well worth while.  I'll not have them without the opportunities that a bit of education can bring them.  Would you prefer your son to follow in your footsteps? Finding his living in the pockets and under the beds of others? Not if I can help it, sure enough.’

     Norah stood abruptly and gathered up the empty plates, patting Tom on the head as she passed him. ‘Right now Tom wants to be a farmer, don't you, son? And knowing how to read the prices of stock and equipment, how farmers are best managing the land…all the information that the educated take for granted…all that will be to his advantage, sure it will.’

     ‘She dropped the plates into a bowl of water loudly, then spun around to face the table again. ‘And if, in time he wants to do something else with his life, then he'll have the knowledge to do that, too. He'll not be deprived of it, Michael Kearns, and if you were as clever as you think you are, you'd be proud of him, so you would.’

     ‘I read about the bushrangers, Pa.’ Tom spoke quietly. ‘In the Bathurst Times. It tells about where they've been and what they're up to. It could help you find them, you know, to get the reward,’ he said, looking at Michael hopefully.

     ‘The Bathurst Times, eh?’ Michael sneered, not at all impressed by his son’s pursuit of education. ‘Already sounds like a bloody toff. And 'ow do you come by the Bathurst Times, then?’

     ‘Mrs Pollard gives it to me…when she and Mr Pollard are through with it.’

     ‘Mrs bloody Pollard again.’ Michael stood and thumped his fist onto the table, causing Tom to jump in his seat and nearly topple off the back of it. ‘An' what about you, miss?’ He whirled around and loomed over Rebecca who was seated beside him.  ‘Are you into this readin' as well, then? Is everyone in this family sneakin' around behind me back.’

     ‘Not me, Pa.’ Rebecca shrugged her shoulders. ‘I've no interest in readin'. Can't see the point.’

     ‘Well at least someone 'as some sense, it seems. The Bathurst Times is good for lightin' the fire, if you ask me, an' that's what it'll be used for if I see one 'ere.’ He stormed out of the hut and slammed the door.

‘Now, look what you did, Tom.’ Rebecca snarled. ‘Now he's not likely to take us to the dance, is he? Stupid newspapers an' readin'. I hate you, so I do.’ She flung her arms in the air and started after her father.

     ‘Don't worry, Rebecca,’ Norah managed before she got to the back door. ‘We'll be going to the dance, for I'm well able to drive the cart. It's not as if I don't have to manage without your father for most of the time.’

     Rebecca had slammed the door and launched herself into the night before the last of Norah's words were out. She sighed deeply, shook her head at Tom, and turned to the corner of the room where Mary lay whimpering.

     ‘There, there, my wee pet,’ she soothed. ‘Your Pa and your sister do get themselves in a tizz, sure they do, but you're quite safe.’ She picked up the infant and rocked her gently until the whimpering stopped.

     ‘I wish he'd go away again, Ma. He's mean, and I don't believe he's a policeman at all.’ Tom’s eyes filled and he shook his head sadly.

     ‘He tries, Tom. Really he does, but he's had a hard life and he doesn't know how to be different. We must be patient with him, sure we must.’ Norah sighed and wished that she felt as benevolent as she sounded. 

By the time Saturday came, Michael had forgotten his harsh words and got the cart ready to take the family to the dance, as if it had all been his own idea. The Quinns were a large family with a sprawling homestead. Norah guessed that their own little hut could have fitted ten times into the barn, which was decked out with bales of hay around the edges for seating and a long table with enough drinks and eats to feed an army. She laid her small plate of damper and jam at one end and herded the children to a hay bale, watching out for Kathryn and Hamlet. Michael wandered into a group of men, apparently feeling quite at home and soon Norah could hear his loud laugh. She prayed he wasn't telling them stories that would cause their neighbours to think too poorly of them. She wished that she was hearing him share farming stories with the other men but she had given up that dream. She would have to accept him as he was and pray that God would help her to raise her family without disgrace.

     Kathryn and Hamlet arrived soon after and Norah waved to them, indicating that she had saved a seat. Kathryn was largely pregnant and walked awkwardly. She would certainly not be dancing tonight, Norah thought, as the families greeted each other. The children were soon jumping about to the music of the two fiddlers who stood at one end of the barn, calling for everyone to kick up their feet and enjoy themselves. Norah was pleased to see Rebecca skipping amongst the dancers happily. She couldn't remember seeing her daughter in such a light mood. 

     ‘Oh, Kathryn, tis good to see the children having such fun. Music is good for the soul, so it is. But you must be careful not to be jiggling your wee one around too much.  Your feet haven't stopped bobbing up and down since you came in, sure they haven't.’

     ‘It'll do us all good to enjoy ourselves, for there's not much time for anything but work, is there?’ Kathryn grinned. ‘Not that I'm complaining. Hamlet and I do love it.  It's very satisfying to see things growing and to be eating our own vegetables and fruit. I brought some fruit pies tonight. I've such a lot of peaches and plums. How's your garden going?’

     ‘As well as can be expected, I think, for we've only a few trees and they're still young.  We had to start from scratch with them but we're learning, sure we are. The children are a great help…well Tom is, at least. He's keen to learn.  Rebecca is...’ She paused and looked around. ‘I've lost track of Rebecca, actually. She was just there with James and Johnny and Mary Ann but they've all disappeared. I best go and see what they're up to.’

     Norah made her way across the barn to where the children had been dancing in a circle a few minutes before. When she couldn't see them anywhere inside, she headed for the large doors and walked slowly outside, listening for their voices. All was quiet and she was just about to go back inside when she heard a soft giggle. She followed the sound until she saw the backs of the four youngsters crowded around the corner of the barn, their heads popping back and forth as they snuck peeks at something that was obviously amusing them behind the back wall. 

     She approached quietly, wondering what could have them so intrigued. As she came closer, she could hear the soft moans and grunts of a man and woman and immediately realised what the children were watching and giggling about. 

     ‘Rebecca,’ she hissed. Four faces turned suddenly towards her. ‘Whatever's going on behind there is none of your business, sure it's not. Now get yourselves inside this instant or the party will be over for the lot of you.’

     James, Mary Ann and Johnny looked at each other in dismay and rushed towards the doors of the barn, anxious to escape Norah's stern gaze. Rebecca's shoulders went back, her chin jutted out and she began to walk slowly and defiantly in front of her mother.  Norah grabbed her by the shoulder when they were close to the door and turned her about.

     ‘You're the eldest, Rebecca. You should be setting a good example for your friends.  Whatever are you thinking? There's plenty of enjoyment to be had inside, surely.’ She couldn't hide her disappointment in her daughter.

     ‘I'm hurtin' no one, Ma. We was just lookin', an' isn't it only what the animals do?  People are just funny about it, is all…all that gruntin' and sighin'. James says he's not heard his parents but I've heard you and Pa – ’

     ‘That's enough.’ Norah cut her off. ‘You get yourself inside now and we'll talk about this later. And you're not to be talking to James about such things at all. He's just a boy and tis not up to you to educate him about the ways of men and women. Now move.’

     ‘I thought you was all for education, Ma. Isn't that what you said to Pa about Tom's readin'?’ With that Rebecca ducked through the door and headed for a group of young people, leaving Norah all but spluttering as she walked slowly back to where Kathryn was seated.

     ‘Are they all right, Norah?’

     ‘Well, they're safe enough…but I'm not sure what we'll be facing with them in the future, sure I'm not. God help us.’

     ‘They're bound to go a bit wild when they get out like this.’ Kathryn patted Norah's knee as she handed the still sleeping Mary back to her mother. ‘Look over there.’ She nodded and smiled. ‘I wonder what the future might be for those two?’

     Norah cast her eyes in the direction of Kathryn's gaze and saw Tom with young Elizabeth amongst the dancers on the floor. Tom had hold of the two-and-a-half year old's hands and was spinning her around, whooping to the beat of the music. Both were giggling loudly and it was clear by Elizabeth's trust in the older boy and the glee on her face, that she adored Tom. 

     ‘He's only seven, Kathryn. It's a bit soon to be anticipating anything there, don't you think?’ Norah laughed lightly. 

     ‘Perhaps, but tis very sweet. He's a good boy, is your Tom. He'll grow up to be a fine man. I can see that already. And a smart one, too. Any mother would be proud to have him interested in her daughter.’

     They both chuckled, enjoying the innocent play of their children. Norah relaxed and hugged Mary to her breast. She determined to keep looking on the bright side of her life.  Michael was a trial, to be sure, and so was Rebecca but she had her dear friend, Kathryn, to help her through the tough times and she did have high hopes for Tom. And now there was Mary, and perhaps more children to come. In time, she was sure they could make a good life on their small farm. She would never have anything like the Quinn's place, for it was grand indeed, but she was grateful to be able to come to such a place occasionally and enjoy it with her friends. She hoped Michael didn't do anything to change that. 

     ‘Did you enjoy yourself tonight?’ Norah asked him tentatively, as they rode home.  ‘You seem distracted.’

     ‘Just summin' it all up, me luv. There were some interestin' people there tonight, so there was…a bit unexpected, really.’

     ‘Oh, in what way unexpected?’

     ‘Quite a few Irish for a start.’

     ‘Well the Quinns came from Ireland so that's hardly surprising really.’

     ‘Yeah, but the Quinns came free. He's a big landowner, so 'e is. Some of the others 'ave a more colourful 'istory, shall we say? Take ol' Pat Hanrahan. Nearly seventy now, I'd wager. You know 'e was on the convict gang that built the road over the mountain. An' in an' out of jail a few times since. Hardly the most upright citizen.’ Michael laughed softly and cast a quick glance at their sleeping children in the back of the cart.

     ‘Sure there's many who've come out here as convicts,’ Norah said, ‘but we're all trying to put that behind us now, and make a new life. You don't want to be raising such things with the men.’

     ‘No, well what about the Foleys then? Old Lawrence was sent out for stealin' a cow an' you mark my words, some o' 'is boys are going to make 'is crime look like child's play, sure they are. I've seen young John at it already…rides with some nasty types…bushrangers. An' John won't be the only one.’ Michael seemed to find his news amusing.

     ‘That's enough, Michael. These are people we want to befriend…not gossip about.’

     ‘An' Paddy Foran, ‘e was there too.’ Michael ignored Norah's plea. ‘He was sent out for 'ighway robbery…a life sentence, so I 'eard. I was talkin' to 'is son, Joe, an' 'e'll be up to 'is ears in trouble as well. Not to mention Mickey Kitt…oh, there's a wild one, sure enough…an’ Danny Nightingale. Wouldn't be surprised if I'm to be arrestin' some of 'em one o' these days.’

     Norah shuddered at Michael's devious chuckling. She was very afraid Michael would one day get himself into trouble that he couldn't escape from. 

‘I noticed you stayed well away from Michael Kearns all night, Hamlet.’ Kathryn held her belly as they rattled over the rough track home. 

     ‘For the most part,’ he answered somberly. ‘Though it didn't stop me hearing him blowing his horn with the other men. Anyone would think he was a hero. He made it sound like he'd personally captured half a dozen bushrangers, that the troupers depended on him to do their job. He's a fraud, Kathryn, and it's hard to listen to him without wanting to give him a good thrashing. I'd have stayed home if I'd known he was going.’

     ‘He did work for a while with the troupers, according to Norah. Perhaps he's at least trying to do the right thing? I'd like to think so, for her sake.’

     ‘If he was trying to do the right thing, he'd be paying back what he stole from us, wouldn't he? And I don't think she should believe a word he tells her. One of the other fellows has been out on the gold fields recently and he said there's been some terrible skirmishes with the Chinese. The miners get drinking and next thing they're storming into the Chinese settlement, driving them all out of their tents, chasing them into the bushes, where the poor sods end up murdered or hide in the cold, frightened for their lives till the troupers come in and find them. Trouble is the troupers are reluctant to go look for them, because they don't like the Chinese any more then the miners. So they leave them there until they're frozen or dead from the wounds the rioting miners inflict on them.’

     ‘That’s terrible, but what’s it got to do with Michael?’

     ‘Alex Woods said he saw a group of local policemen and some trackers come back to camp laughing with the miners who'd chased some Chinese off, calling them evil devils.  And not only that, they knocked down their tents and took what they wanted from their supplies. Joe said tonight that he was sure Michael Kearns was amongst that group.  Now that I can believe of him! He takes because he can…whatever chance he has. I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him. He wasn't there to socialise tonight, believe you me.’

     Hamlet spoke softly, conscious that James, Mary Ann and Johnny were still awake in the back of the cart. Kathryn glanced behind her and saw them with their heads together, giggling. 

     ‘They've had a good time tonight, dear, even if they did get a bit mischievous. I think they're telling their own stories.’

     ‘Well, I'm still not happy about them mixing with the Kearns mob. That Rebecca is trouble, you mark my words.’

     ‘Hamlet, she's just a girl, and perhaps ours can have a good influence on her. Usually she doesn't mix with them at all. I was glad to see her being more friendly tonight. She's only ten. She'll grow up soon enough.’

     ‘I don't want Mary Ann influenced by her. I know you want to be friends with Norah and God knows she needs all the help she can get. But we must be careful because our trouble with Michael Kearns is not over.’

     Kathryn could hear the tension in her husband's voice. ‘What do you mean, Hamlet?  You’re frightening me.’

     ‘There was something else tonight. I didn't want to tell you but you should know.’

     ‘What? What happened?’

     ‘At one point I saw him go outside and I followed him. I found him leaning against the wall having a smoke. He'd obviously had a bit to drink. I was going to confront him about the past…about the brooch. I thought I might be able to at least find out what he did with it.’

     ‘Oh, Hamlet, you do torture yourself.’

     ‘I can't just forget about it, Kathryn. Not with him living so close, and seeing Norah all the time. It eats at me.’

     ‘I'm sorry. I don't want my friendship with Norah to cause you such pain. Did you find out anything?  What did he say?’

     ‘I didn't even have to ask him. As soon as he saw me approaching he started to laugh…this hideous cackle. He's mad, Kathryn. There's no doubt of that. He asked me right off if I'd ever found that silly trinket I'd lost years ago. He said it with such malice, such…I don't know how to describe the evil I felt in him.’

     ‘What did you do?’ Kathryn moved closer and took his arm, trying to keep her husband calm.

     ‘I couldn't help myself. I grabbed him by the collar and rammed him against the wall.  I felt I could kill him, Kathryn. I swear I might have if someone hadn't come out of the barn just at that moment.’ 

     ‘Oh, Hamlet...’

     ‘He just sneered at me as I backed off…and said something I'll never forget.’

     Kathryn waited silently, aware that Hamlet was trying to control his emotions. 

     ‘He said, “She's in the black hole where all mothers should be.” That's what he said…with such venom, Kathryn. It took all my strength to walk away. I know he's not worth getting hanged for but I'm not sure I could walk away from him again if I caught him alone.’

     ‘Dear God in heaven. We must guard against that, Hamlet.’ Kathryn was shaking.  ‘So, do you think he still has the brooch?’ she whispered. 

     ‘I think he knows where it is…yes.’

     A deep fear for her husband clutched at Kathryn's heart. And not only fear for him, but for her dear friend as well. 

 On the first day of June, Hamlet sat proudly by his wife, flushed with joy and relief as she rested peacefully, a healthy baby girl snuggled under her arm. 

     ‘You were very brave through it all…and now look at this beautiful daughter we have. Harriet Marie Pollard. I'm so proud.’

     ‘I'm very proud too," Kathryn sighed. And very glad that right now any thought of Michael Kearns is far from Hamlet's mind.   

To be continued.....

Carol Preston

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