Far From Home (41 page)

‘You must stay here,’ he said, as he finished it, and she felt a sense of uneasy relief. ‘There is only room for one and the beaver. I will be away for several hours.’ He gave her a sudden intense glance. ‘You will be all right. You have a knife and I’ll leave you my rifle. If you are in trouble fire it and I will come.’

It was lonely without him and she kept to the shelter, venturing out only to feed the fire with twigs and branches, and twice to look downriver, hoping to see him returning. There were unfamiliar rustlings from the forest floor and screechings from the tree tops, and from time to time she clanked a tin spoon against the bean pot to warn off any wandering bear.

He returned as the light began to fade, carrying the bodies of two beaver. Georgiana averted her eyes as he threw them down and proceeded to skin them. ‘Build up the fire,’ he said, ‘and look for some long branches to make a frame.’

She did as she was bid without query. When he had skinned the animals he built up the branches over the fire and tied the bodies over it, where they swung and roasted.

‘I’m not sure I can eat it,’ she said, putting her hand over her mouth as he sliced off a piece of the roasted meat.

‘Eat!’ He held the meat towards her on his knife. ‘There is nothing else. Would you rather starve?’

Later, after darkness had fallen and she was sated with the rich meat, she asked him, as they sat by the fire, about his father and mother. ‘What happened to them?’ she asked. ‘Did your mother travel with him?’

He poked the fire with a stick before answering. ‘I only know what I was told,’ he said softly. ‘My mother was very young and she had gone into the forest alone, which was forbidden for the young Iroquois maidens. She was collecting berries and didn’t hear him come behind her. She tried to run but he caught her, put her on his horse and took her away with him.’

His forehead creased into a deep frown. ‘He took her from the territory she knew and made her his squaw. Two years she was gone, then she became with child and he didn’t want her any more. He took her back to the settlement early one morning and left her there. She sat outside in the forest for two days, not daring to go in. Then she thought of the child she was carrying and plucked up the courage to ask the Iroquois to take her in.’

‘And they did?’ she asked softly.

He nodded. ‘The women held a council, and then the men did the same. They decided that it hadn’t been her fault. That she hadn’t encouraged him and so they let her back into the tribe.’

‘Did you ever meet him?’

‘No. He was killed by another tribe when he tried to take one of their women.’ His eyes narrowed and his voice was bitter. ‘It was a pity for I had wanted to kill him myself.’

They set off back to Dreumel’s Creek the next morning, arriving as darkness fell. He watched her go into her cabin, then wheeled around and cantered back down the valley and up the wooded mountainside.

Her life took on a regular pattern. Lake rode in over the mountains and they spent a short precious time together, then he gathered his belongings, lifted his packs onto the second horse, fastened the blankets over the top of them and put on his leather hat, which each time he came had a different feather in it. He saddled his horse, hitched up onto it and looked down at her. He didn’t speak, but simply nodded his head, raised his hand and cantered away. She never asked him when he would be returning – she knew he would come when he could.

Now that Kitty had her child Georgiana was without any help or maid, but she didn’t mind. She felt quite self-sufficient, except on washdays when carrying heavy buckets of water from the rain butts or creek did not appeal, so Kitty arranged for young Rose to help Miss Gianna with the washing. Rose also assisted Kitty in her bakery store. ‘What about that, Miss Georgiana?’ Kitty exclaimed. ‘Who’d ever have thought that I would have a help of my own!’

Georgiana’s own cabin was taking shape as Wilhelm had promised, as was the new road into the next valley which they decided would be called Pike’s Road. Mining equipment was coming in only gradually, for the men were anxious not to whisper the word that there was gold in the next valley. The ground was staked and a company, made up of the committee, was formed.

In the summer a second shaft was sunk, but there was disappointment when there was no gold. Some of the newer men, employed to work for the company, packed up their picks, shovels and tents and drifted away to look for their fortune elsewhere.

‘We’re too high,’ Ted proclaimed, looking down from the site of the second shaft. ‘We should be lower down, nearer the creek.’ So another site was chosen for the third shaft. Waterwheels were installed, flumes to divert the mountain streams were dug, a shaft house and rough shanty housing were built so that the men didn’t have to journey back to Dreumel’s Creek each evening.

Georgiana was sitting on a bench outside the bakery with Caitlin on her knee, whilst Kitty was inside kneading dough. She was building up a good business, supplying the residents of Dreumel’s Creek with fresh bread and cakes. Georgiana lifted her head and listened. A shout! Faint, yet definitely a shout. There it was again. It was coming from the direction of the other valley.

‘Kitty!’ she called. ‘Come here a minute.’

Kitty emerged, wiping her floury hands on a cloth. ‘What?’ she said.

‘Something’s happening – listen, can’t you hear? The men are shouting.’

‘Glory to God!’ Kitty crossed herself. ‘I hope there’s not been an accident!’ She took Caitlin from Georgiana and hugged her.

‘No.’ Georgiana stood up and strained to hear. ‘I can hear –
yippee
! That’s what they’re shouting! They’re shouting yippee! Oh, Kitty!’ She turned to face her, her face flushed and animated. ‘Do you think they’ve struck gold?’

They had. A figure appeared across the creek at the entrance to the new road. A figure waving his arms and jumping up and down. They couldn’t hear what he was yelling but he was indicating good news.

‘It’s Ted!’ Kitty shrieked, startling Caitlin and making her cry. ‘Look, he’s wearing his lucky red shirt!’

Georgiana laughed. ‘His lucky red shirt?’

‘Yes!’ Kitty cried excitedly. ‘I’d washed his old one and told him to wear that one. He didn’t want to because he said it was his best winter flannel. I said it would bring him luck and then we’d be able to make him another!’

When the men arrived back that evening they brought the news of a strike. ‘We struck the lead!’ Ted threw his hat in the air and swung Kitty round and round until she shrieked at him to stop. Then he gave Georgiana a smacking kiss.

‘Forty feet down,’ he bellowed. ‘Jason went wandering along the creek and saw the gravel glistening under the water. We went down another ten feet and brought up the richest gravel you ever did see!’

Wilhelm had a huge beam on his face. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he kept saying. ‘I can’t believe it! After all this time! I almost gave up,’ he confessed to Georgiana. ‘The men were so tired, yet they wanted to continue, especially Ted. And,’ he looked at Georgiana, ‘I couldn’t bear to think of you losing your inheritance.’

‘But I didn’t,’ she said gently. ‘I had faith in you, Wilhelm.’

‘Thank you.’ He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. ‘Thank you.’

Once the news reached Philadelphia, miners started to appear across the plain, carrying their picks and shovels and some wheelbarrows, all heading for Dreumel’s Creek. But not all could find their way and some missed the opening into the mountains and lost themselves. Other more determined characters found their way but discovered that the best claims had been staked on the hillside, so they moved further down into the second valley.

Yeller Valley, Jason had named it, and within weeks a shanty town had been set up alongside the creek. Claims were staked, and men panned and sieved the waters of the river bed. Others struck the rock with their picks but few found gold for it was buried deep, and many moved on.

Nearly four years had passed since Georgiana and Kitty had set sail for America, and they often discussed how different their lives now were. Kitty was a wife and mother and running her own bakery store, whilst Georgiana had swapped her genteel lady’s existence for a much simpler one. They were richer than they had ever dreamed they would be, but found that the acquisition of gold had made little difference to their lives here in Dreumel’s Creek.

It was whilst Georgiana and Wilhelm were in Philadelphia attending to newspaper business, for Georgiana, at Wilhelm’s insistence, had kept her shares in the
Star
, that a letter came for her. She had given the newspaper address to May and May’s parents and although she wrote fairly regularly, their replies came only infrequently. In one of them May had told her of the sudden death of Aunt Clarissa.

She sat at Wilhelm’s desk now and hoped that it wasn’t more bad news. She was dismayed, however, to read in the first line that May’s father had died during the year.

‘I did not tell you sooner, my dear Georgiana, for I know how you would have depended on poor Papa should you return to England, and I did not wish to crush your spirits too much. However, after much discussion, Mama and I decided that it was best that you know the situation here and that after such a long period away, you must expect now to fend for yourself.

‘I had hoped that you would have found a suitable husband to care for you, but I must presume that you haven’t as I know you would have written to tell me. I can only hope that your spinsterhood is tranquil and untroubled, and in order to maintain a prudent decorum I suggest that you refrain from reading any romantic novels as you used to, which might induce any craving of unrequited passion.’

Georgiana smiled to herself as she turned the page, and thought of riding up into the mountains with Lake. She thought of his lithe strong body, his tender, yet passionate loving, and knew that she couldn’t speak of any of this happiness to her cousin.

‘However,’ she read on, and her eyebrows rose at the content, ‘the main reason for my writing to you now is to ask a favour of you, which I know you will consider it your duty to fulfil, in view of your obligation to us, your adoptive family, who have sustained you as a daughter and sister since the early death of your unfortunate parents.

‘Dearest Papa was always of the opinion that one day Edward would return to me and that our marriage would be resumed. I was therefore never allowed to entertain any gentlemen, not even in a most discreet manner, and have lived a virtuous and moral life since my husband left. But now that Papa is gone, I have a suitor, a Mr Melville, a very worthy gentleman, who would marry me if I was free. I am asking you therefore, dear Georgiana, if you will do all in your power to ascertain whether my husband, Edward Newmarch, is alive or dead.’

Georgiana put down the letter. But how? Surely May does not want me to search for him? Does she not realize how big this country is? She glanced again at the letter and read it to the end. She does! She is obligating me to seek him out! There was no doubt that her cousin was calling on Georgiana’s integrity and gratitude for the benevolence shown to her in the past.

She showed the letter to Wilhelm and he read it with a grave expression on his face. ‘Did they bestow compassion on you when you lost your parents?’ he asked.

‘My uncle supported me and never grumbled,’ she admitted. ‘But I lived with his elderly sister, my aunt. I did not live with them as a daughter or a sister, as May implies. May was very young when I came into their care and I don’t think they wanted another child in the house.

‘Nevertheless,’ she conceded, ‘I have every reason to be grateful to my uncle and aunt. And I did accompany May as a companion as we grew into womanhood.’ She sighed and thought of how very often she had become weary of May and her constant demands.

‘Then we must endeavour to find him.’ Wilhelm teased his beard thoughtfully. ‘If he is alive she must file for a divorce, which would perhaps be distasteful for her, or if he is dead be declared a widow. She cannot marry otherwise.’ He gazed at Georgiana. ‘An advertisement in the newspaper for a start?’

She considered. ‘Yes. And perhaps in a New Orleans paper also, if you have contacts. That is where he was last seen.’

But weeks went by and there was no response to their advertisements. Autumn was coming up fast, the foliage on the oaks was turning to red-gold and the willows by the creek were shedding their leaves. Lake would be coming for the last time before winter and Georgiana felt that if she was to be positive regarding the search for Edward Newmarch, then she should act soon.

‘Wilhelm! I think I must travel to New Orleans to enquire about Edward.’

He looked startled. ‘But someone must accompany you. You cannot possibly travel alone.’ Then he blinked his blue eyes and smiled. ‘Even though you are an intrepid traveller!’

‘Wilhelm,’ she warned jocularly. ‘You know better than to say that I cannot do something!’ She considered. ‘I’ll speak to Ted again. Perhaps he might remember more about what might have happened to Edward Newmarch.’

Ted couldn’t shed more light on the mystery. ‘I was ill with malaria at the time he disappeared,’ he said. ‘I won’t ever forget that because it keeps recurring.’ He shook his head. ‘I reckon the Spaniard, Rodriguez, found him. Newmarch told me he had become involved with a woman. Women were always his downfall,’ he added cynically.

‘Well, you cannot go alone, Georgiana,’ Wilhelm insisted. ‘It is too dangerous. Ask Lake,’ he said quietly. ‘He’ll tell you.’

‘Lake is not my keeper,’ she answered defiantly, for although she realized that Wilhelm knew of her relationship with Lake, she did not care for it to be acknowledged. She regretted her words instantly when she saw the hurt on his face. ‘I’m sorry, Wilhelm,’ she whispered. ‘But I must do what
I
think is best.’

‘I only meant,’ he said, turning away from her, ‘that Lake would know of the dangers of crossing the country alone. As indeed I do, and Ted and the other men do.’ He looked back at her. ‘But you are a stubborn, independent woman, Georgiana, and nothing I will say will make the slightest difference!’