Daring Masquerade (11 page)

"Oh, Ross." She reached up on tiptoe, and ran a gentle finger along the scar. His nostrils flared slightly. A transient warmth softened his eyes, but was quickly extinguished when his cold mask settled back into place.

At breakfast the men did not know what to say to her. She did not even bother with the waistcoat now; everyone knew she was Harriet not Harry.

"Sorry about your brother," Archie said. "He was a fine young man."

"Hear, hear," the others agreed.

"Thank you. I'm sorry for deceiving everyone." She scrubbed the tears off her cheeks with her fingers. There would be plenty of time left for crying later. She had a job to do and would do it no matter what it cost her. Gritting her teeth, she started dishing up. Eggs, beans and fried bread washed down with black tea. Not very exciting but there was plenty of it.

After the men left to attend the cattle, only she, Ross and Jack remained. She watched silently as Ross doused the campfire.

"I'll leave you in charge, Jack. You'll have to drive the wagon, too, but the men know what to do. Keep the cattle moving."

"What about me?" Harry queried.

"You're coming into town with me. We'll have to see the authorities, then I'll put you on the first train to Benalla."

"Don't be so cold-blooded," Jack protested.

"Well, she can't stay here."

"I know."

"Why can't I?" She hoped she didn't sound too plaintive.

"Because you're a woman, and you can't stay out here with a bunch of men," Ross ground the words out.

"You could keep an eye on me, Jack."

"I wish I could, girlie, but it's impossible." He glanced at Ross. "He's the boss."

"Oh yes, and he can't wait to get rid of me." Harry didn't try to disguise her bitterness as she faced Ross. "You've had it in for me ever since I arrived here."

"I gave you a job," he growled.

"You employed Gil, and let me tag along."

"What if I did?"

"My brother is dead." She clenched her hands into fists, nails biting into her palms. "Don't you feel any pity for me?"

"I do sympathize with you. I'm sorry about Gilbert, but I need to get these cattle to the army representative at the railhead."

"Money," she sneered. "It always comes down to money with rich people like you."

"That's not true, my dear," Jack said.

"Of course it is. You're a nice man, but your nephew is a heartless money grabber."

"Watch your mouth." Ross advanced towards her threateningly. "The fact you're female won't stop me from putting you over my knee and giving you the spanking you deserve."

Jack protested. "Remember what she's been through."

"He doesn't give a damn about me." Angry tears pooled in her eyes. "He's callous."

Ross stalked off but she ran after him. "I hate you." She pummeled her fists into his back.

He swung around. "The feeling is mutual."

Tears cascaded down her cheeks. Great sobs racked her body as she sank to the ground.

"Oh, Harry." He stood her up and wrapped his arms around her. "You're making it difficult for me."

She nuzzled her face into his shirt, and his heart thumped in her ear.

"Don't send me away, please."

"You can't stay here. Be reasonable." His hands caressed her back in a gentle circular motion instilling her with warmth. "It's impossible."

"I could wait for you at the outstation, stay in your hut maybe?"

"No. I'm sorry. The sensible thing for you to do is go to your aunt's place."

It was safe and comforting being held in his arms. She wanted him to kiss her, make her forget the pain of losing Gil. Was she going mad? She castigated herself for caring about such a pig of a man.

Ross saddled a horse for her and they cantered off. She turned around to wave at Jack standing motionless staring after them.

"Goodbye, Gil," she whispered. "You were the best brother in the world."

On and on they travelled through brooding bush land, her cold limbs warmed by the mid morning sun as it filtered through the tree trunks. Her eyes blurred with tears and she stifled her sobs, even though her heart had shattered into a million pieces. Ross rode a little in front of her staring straight ahead, his back ramrod straight, as remote as the mountains of Devil's Ridge.

The town came up suddenly, a clutch of weatherboard buildings set in a peaceful, green valley. They clattered down the cobblestoned main street. She stared straight ahead. Wearing a clean blue work shirt and brown moleskin trousers tucked into black boots, she felt shabby and dirty. Strange how her attire never mattered when she masqueraded as a boy, but for once she wanted Ross to see her dressed in feminine clothes. She shook her head angrily at such foolishness. Why worry about what he thought of her? She already knew. He couldn’t care less about her.

"Do you want to stop at the pub for a lemonade before we see the police?"

"No thanks, unless you want a beer."

"I could down a dozen beers and a bottle of whisky."

"I've caused you a lot of trouble, I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Let's get this over with."

They filed into the police station and walked up to a dark-haired police constable sitting behind a desk scribbling something in a notebook.

"Who's in charge here?" Ross swept off his hat and swiped the back of his hand across his forehead.

"Me." The constable used a sheath of papers to swat a fly on his desk.

"We've come to report an accident." Ross explained what happened.

"That's suicide."

"Call it what you like. We tried to find the body but failed."

"Are you sure he's dead?"

"He jumped off a waterfall on to rocks a hundred feet below, of course he's dead."

Harry sucked in a noisy breath at how callous the two men sounded?

"I'm sorry." Ross dragged his hands through his hair. "I didn't mean to sound so brutal."

His face was drawn with fatigue, his eyes red rimmed from lack of sleep, he looked to be at the end of his tether.

"Write out what happened." The constable pushed a paper and pen at Ross. "Who's he?"

"I'm Gilbert's sister."

"Sorry, miss, I'm having a bad day. You better make a statement as well. Put down your brother's details, full name and physical description. We'll instigate a search, but I don't think we'll find anything. That waterfall area is full of underground caverns."

With a shaking hand, she wrote down what he asked for. When they were finished, they walked outside into the sunshine.

"That was awful," she whispered.

"I know. I saw a tearoom when we rode in, how about I buy you some lunch?"

"I couldn't eat anything, thanks, but a cup of tea would be nice."

They entered the tearoom and made their way to an unoccupied table. It was set with a pristine white lace cloth, and carved mahogany chairs were upholstered in burgundy brocade. Coach lanterns displayed at various intervals along the walls gave it a cozy feel.

"We'll have sandwiches and a pot of tea," he told the hovering waitress. "Would you like anything else?"

"No thanks."

"Don't look at me like that. Going to your aunt's is the only sensible thing to do."

"She won't want me." Harry hunched her shoulders. "I'm not genteel enough."

"If you were only three or four years older."

"I'm nineteen."

"You don't look it. Anyway, I'm twenty-nine. It couldn't work between us. You know it as well as I do." He tilted her face upwards with a finger under her chin. "Don't make things harder on yourself."

"I can't help it," she sniffed and glared at two elderly women who sat watching them. "What are you staring at?"

Ross rolled his eyes. "Don't start a brawl in here. I couldn't stand it."

The sandwiches arrived, a mixture of ham and pickle, curried egg and tomato. He poured the tea as Harry's hands shook too much. She picked at a sandwich, but drank every last drop of the milky tea.

As he devoured the sandwiches, she noticed his white, even teeth, his slightly full, sensuous lips. She hadn't lied, the scar had faded, but what a tragedy for the perfection of such a handsome face to be marred.

"I think there's a late morning train leaving for Melbourne. I'll get you a ticket to Benalla."

"You don't have to. Give me the wages owing and I can pay for it."

"No arguments, Harry."

"What's the use?"

She lowered her head. She would get on the train, but wouldn't be getting off at Benalla. She was going to Devil's Ridge to hide out in the mountain hut. Unlikely he would go up there again in the near future. She needed somewhere to lick her wounds and grieve for Gil. No way could she do it at Auntie Bertha's. Later on she would get a housekeeping position somewhere. Train to become a nurse and help the war effort, maybe.

"You're not plotting anything, are you?"

"Who me?" she asked meekly.

"Here." He pulled out his wallet and peeled off some notes. "I'll pay you Gilbert's wages as well."

"Thanks."

He placed four five pound notes in her hand.

"That's too much."

"Keep it." He closed her fingers around the money.

Harry saw the old dears staring at her again.

"Oh, thank you, sir. I hope you enjoyed your time with me?"

One of the women nearly choked on her tea, and Harry hid a grin behind her hand—pious old biddies.

"Harry!"

"They think I'm a prostitute."

The breath hissed noisily through his compressed lips.

"So I only confirmed it for them."

"Thank heavens I won't be passing through here again in a hurry," he muttered. "They look as if they want to lynch me."

"Tar and feather I think you mean."

"They'll put you in a ducking chair for being a witch."

They left shortly afterwards, and stepping out into the street, a furnace blast of heat hit her like a physical blow.

"It's going to be a long, hot summer," he predicted as they went to their horses. He suddenly halted. "Wait here for a moment. I want to get a paper, see how the war is going."

At the station, she insisted that he buy only a second class rail ticket. They waited without speaking as the train steamed into the platform.

"Goodbye, Harry." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Good luck."

Warmth surged through her. "Thanks, same to you. If they find Gil, you’ll let me know?"

"Yes."

He stood on the platform, feet planted slightly apart, hands shoved deep into his pockets. As the train pulled away, she waved to him, but he did not return her salute.

When she finally sat down in her seat she peered into the paper bag he had thrust into her hands at the last minute. It contained a pretty cardboard box full of sweets. This kind gesture warmed her heart. Gave her hope that he felt something other than annoyance for her.

Her carriage was empty, thank goodness. She looked untidy and scruffy and not too clean. Rolled up in a blanket tied with a piece of string were her and Gil's belongings. Pathetic really, not much to show for nineteen years on the earth.

I'll buy a horse. No point wasting money on a saddle when it would be easy enough to ride bareback to the outstation. Plenty of food there, and spare saddles as well.

She could hide in the hut for a few weeks until she sorted herself out. She remembered hearing him say they would be away from Devil's Ridge for at least a fortnight.

* * *

When Harry arrived at Ashborne, she alighted without a qualm. The station was not manned. She swung her swag across her shoulder, and with the brim of her hat turned down, tramped towards town.

I won't think of you Gil until I get to Devil's Ridge. I have to keep my grief in check until then.

She trudged down the main street, past the rotunda where Gil had been handed the white feather, and on to the stables.

"Do you have a horse I could buy, mister?" she asked the man.

"Only a couple of hacks here at the moment, pretty ordinary they are too, boy. I can let you have one cheap, though."

"I'll take that bay. It looks all right."

Not much of a nag but it would serve the purpose. She paid over the money, led the horse down the road to the bakery and bought a couple of loaves of bread. Meat would be a problem, but she could fish, and trap rabbits. With any luck, Ross might have left his rifle there; on the other hand, gunshots would echo and maybe carry down to the main house. Too risky.

Darkness had closed in by the time she set herself up in Ross' hut, with the fire going and the billycan boiling for tea. In a kerosene tin, she heated up some water to fill the old tin bath she had found in a lean-to out back. What bliss to soak in it for a while. She had more than earned this little luxury.

While the water boiled, she dusted the place with an old shirt, and swept the floor. No mirror hung on the wall, but she could see where one had once been. Had he taken it down so he didn't have to see his scarred face?

She filled the tub with hot water and threw in a piece of soap. Warm, frothy bubbles caressing her skin was pure luxury. She lay back and closed her eyes, letting her lower legs and feet dangle over the edge, because the bath was so short. She was just over five feet, so how could a tall man like Ross fit in it? Of course, he may not have used it anyway.

Her skin was tanned to a light honey color where it had been exposed to the sun. Elsewhere, it looked lily white. If I'd been beautiful, he would have let me stay. She had made him a reasonable offer, pocketed her pride, and he rejected it out of hand.

They would both end up lonely, bitter people because she didn't want to spend her life with any man but him. How she knew this she couldn't fathom. Why it happened she had no idea either.

* * *

For two weeks, Harry roamed the mountains. Down in the gullies, hidden behind mossy rocks, wild violets grew in profusion. Clumps of everlastings, honeysuckle and wild hops covered the slopes. She explored caves decorated with aboriginal paintings. Such tranquility and beauty soothed her. The longer she stayed, the more enthralled she became.