Ironbark (19 page)

Jake assured her he knew his job. Knew every bend in this road. He only hoped he sounded convincing. He had previously travelled this new route riding Horatio. No need to explain that he had never actually driven a coach this way.

‘All right, ladies and doctor. Climb on board. We've got three hours of daylight before the pass. Rug up well. At that height it'll be colder than a spinster's embrace!'

That last phrase was barely out of his mouth before Jake cursed his careless tongue. He tried to smooth over his gaffe by offering his hand to Saranna Plews to help her navigate the coach steps. For the first time
ever she smiled at him. Maybe the girl was human after all.

The Widow Smith hesitated. Jake followed her glance to where O'Flaherty lay snoring under his hat, slumped across the seat he shared with her. She turned to Jake.

‘It's a pity to disturb him. Would you mind if
I
sat beside you on the box seat?'

Jake wasn't too happy about having to answer more of her questions when he was in a foul mood but he could hardly expect a good woman to cradle a drunk.

‘Righto. But don't tell me how to drive my coach.'

‘We are all perfectly safe in your hands, Mr Andersen.'

Jake shot her a sharp look to check if her praise was barbed but she turned on such a dazzling smile he decided it might be genuine.

She reached out for the footboard to hoist herself up.

‘Allow me,' said Jake and effortlessly swung her up onto the box seat in a flurry of red petticoats and a flash of ankles. An odd thought crossed his mind. This was the first good woman he'd held in his arms since Jenny.

‘I'd best tie you to the seat for safety's sake. Gets pretty rough before the pass.'

To his surprise she hastily drew her shawl around her hips like a protective shield. ‘No! I've ridden bareback all my life. Never been thrown. I'll hold tight with both hands.'

‘Make sure you do. If your bonnet blows off again I don't want you flying after it.'

Like an obedient child she removed her hat and pushed it under the seat. She laughed in anticipation as the wind fanned her hair around her head.

Jake grabbed hold of the reins and sent his team charging off.
That hair! Jesus, this woman's one heap of trouble. I'll be glad to see the back of her. What with her looks and thousands of men in the colony hungry for a good woman, I reckon she won't be a widow for long.

• • •

Keziah was exhilarated by this first experience on the box seat, but she didn't want to risk Jake's displeasure by bombarding him with all the questions that bubbled up inside her.

The dancing shadows of the bush gave it a magical dimension that made her spine tingle. When the babe moved like an excited tickle in her belly, she felt a strange new sensation. Comradeship. For better or worse the baby was sharing this grand adventure with her.

Darkness enveloped the road with a speed that was strange to her eyes accustomed to the soft English twilight. The coach's side oil lamps made small arcs of light that bounced across the road, causing jagged shapes to lurch out at them as they passed between pools of moonlight.

Keziah was conscious that Jake Andersen kept glancing her way. The expression in his eyes convinced her that some woman had made him distrust the entire female race.

She was impressed that he never used the whip on his horses. She liked the way his hands held the reins so loosely they only needed the slightest pressure to cause the team to respond. Attractive hands, strong but well-shaped. Hands tough enough to fight a man but gentle enough to touch a woman. Startled, she pushed this unguarded thought from her mind.

Jake slowed the team as the coach rounded a sharp bend and emerged into a clearing. The coach lamps picked out an odd shape – their path was blocked by a pile of tree branches.

‘Jesus wept,' Jake said quietly. ‘It's a trap. One Eye's gang. Don't scream. Sit tight.'

He pressed his hand over hers but didn't take his eyes from the road.

Before them three bushrangers sat waiting in the saddle. Three pistols were trained directly at Jake's head – two of them in the hands of the leader. The third bushranger casually aimed his own weapon at the moon.

‘Bail up! Stand and deliver!' This middle-aged voice of authority came from the leader who then barked a command for his gang to dismount. Moonlight showed One Eye to be broad-shouldered but thin, sporting a rough beard and a cap that failed to conceal his eyes. Keziah shuddered when she saw how he'd earned his name. One sickly blue eye was watery. The other was just an empty eye socket.

She glanced at his two offsiders, feeling a wave of relief that Gem was not one of them.

The taller of the two younger bushrangers wore a broad-brimmed black hat. Keziah noticed that the moment this lad sighted Saranna peering through the window, he hastily masked his face with his green neckerchief. Blinking green eyes betrayed his nervousness.

The runt of the group was a cocksure youth who was light on his feet, a boyish figure in a jaunty hat a size too large for his head. His face was clean-shaven but he didn't bother to use his paisley-patterned scarf to disguise his features. He appeared to be enjoying the whole game.

Keziah was surprised by her first instinct. Disappointment. This trio failed to measure up to the heroic legends that the colonials had created about bushrangers. Then came the first wave of fear.

‘Get out of the coach, all of you!' One Eye ordered.

Jake raised his arms high in surrender as he climbed down from the coach but his words to his passengers were quietly confident.

‘Do exactly as One Eye says. Don't play the hero and you'll all come out of this alive.'

Keziah didn't need Tarot cards to assess the three bushrangers.

Green Scarf is the weak link in the chain. He might shoot my head off from sheer nerves. The Runt is cocksure. He'd rather charm you out of your money than hurt you. But One Eye is ruthless. He'd kill a man as soon as look at him.

Keziah now felt a real shiver of fear. Her hand instinctively moved to protect her belly, a gesture that caused One Eye to yell at her.

‘Keep your bloody mitts where I can see them!'

Keziah looked to the right to take her cue from Jake. She copied his stance and raised her hands high above her head. Then thanked
The Del
that Jake was keeping a cool head. No one else had.

Agitated, Saranna's voice broke out in dry sobs as she stood in line beside them, clutching at her cameo brooch. But the real problem was Dr O'Flaherty. His erratic swaying and arm waving were fast stretching Green Scarf's nerves to flashpoint.

One Eye's voice called out another order. ‘All of you! Give over your valuables!'

Despite Jake's urging, O'Flaherty refused to relinquish his wallet and fob watch.

Obedient to One Eye's command, Green Scarf struck O'Flaherty across the face with his pistol.

The Runt, with a nod of reassurance, jumped forward to take the doctor's wallet. ‘There, that wasn't so hard, was it, Sir!'

When Keziah saw blood gush from O'Flaherty's mouth, she was so enraged she forgot she was supposed to be a lady and yelled out, ‘You're a cowardly dog, One Eye!'

Jake laughed outright in delighted disbelief but Keziah was mortified by her outburst.

‘The next fool to disobey me gets their own coffin!' One Eye promised and instructed the Runt to strip Saranna of her jewellery.

To Keziah's surprise the boy defied his leader. He sauntered across to screen Saranna from One Eye's direct line of fire.

Nonchalantly he replied, ‘Brooches ain't my style. Let's settle for the fellows' wallets and watch chains.'

‘I'm giving the orders, boyo!' One Eye barked. ‘You two bloody well take the wenches' jewellery or I'll top the lot of them – yourself included!'

The Runt refused to budge. ‘Hey, Murphy! That's not what mates are for.'

Murphy, so that's his real name.
Keziah felt her heart beat faster when
she saw that Green Scarf was too afraid to disobey the gang's leader. He moved down the line of victims, gripping his pistol with both hands. Jake politely handed over his wallet. Keziah noticed that when Green Scarf halted before Saranna his hands were trembling as he pointed his pistol at her brooch. Saranna's eyes widened in terror but she shook her head in denial.

Green Scarf looked confused but he seemed unable to utter a sound.

Jake firmly advised Saranna, ‘Hand it over, lass. No bauble's worth dying for.'

Saranna's unexpected cry of passion rang through the bush. ‘Never!'

Keziah gasped in admiration at Saranna's surprising stand but she now feared it had cost the girl her life. Jake Andersen's quick thinking came to the rescue.

‘I reckon Irish whisky's more to your taste, lads. There's a case of it up there on the roof of my coach.'

The Runt needed no second invitation. He sprang up onto the coach and freed the bottles of O'Flaherty's whisky from the box.

O'Flaherty loudly protested at the theft.

Enraged, One Eye turned his sights on Keziah. ‘Give over that gold ring and purse! Or I'll splatter you with your driver's brains.'

One Eye pressed the muzzle of one of his pistols against Jake's temple. Keziah froze. She read the truth in One Eye's cold eye. There
was
no choice. He intended to kill Jake.

Jake's eyes locked with hers. Keziah knew exactly what he was thinking – she could well be his last sight on earth. So she willed Jake to read her thoughts.
Grab your chance, lad!

Although her knees were shaking, Keziah took two bold paces forward. She stood facing all three bushrangers.

‘Want my life savings, do you, lads? Well, have the guts to come and take 'em!'

She tore open her red blouse to reveal the money pouch hanging on
a cord around her neck – a move that also laid bare her voluptuous breasts.

The result was utter chaos. The Runt was so stunned by the sight of a woman's bosom that he accidentally discharged his pistol. This bullet whistled across and shot off Jake's hat causing blood to spurt from a surface wound. In one lightning-fast move Jake leapt sideways and with a powerful sweep of his arm knocked both pistols from One Eye's grasp and reached out to grab them.

Rattled, Green Scarf trained his trembling pistol on Jake.

‘Shoot him dead!' One Eye ordered.

Keziah had been ready to leap on the Runt's back to disarm him but her blood ran cold when she saw Green Scarf's eyes lock with Jake's steady gaze. Was he going to kill Jake in cold blood?

Right at that moment they were all distracted when Dr O'Flaherty decided to play the hero. He drunkenly grappled a body at random – which happened to be Jake, who swore in frustration at being thwarted from reaching One Eye's pistols lying on the ground. The nervy Green Scarf finally fired his weapon but the bullet whistled past the empty coach – and Keziah sensed this misdirected shot was no accident.

Jake was the calm in the eye of the storm. He called out the warning, ‘Here's the traps! Make for the hills, lads!'

One Eye yelled to his gang to cut and run, then galloped up the hill ahead of them and headed west. The two novice bushrangers veered apart to the east and south.

Keziah pushed the hysterical Saranna into the coach and jumped in beside her.

‘What are you bawling for, girl? Thanks to Jake Andersen, we're all alive, aren't we?'

She peered out the window. What on earth was causing the delay?

Jake had dragged the blockade of branches clear of the road but now he was being hindered by the drunken O'Flaherty, who insisted on clambering up onto the box seat beside him.

Jake yelled back at Keziah, ‘Hold tight! Don't worry, I've got it all under control!'

Dr O'Flaherty struggled to grab the reins until Jake's fist connected with his face. Keziah recognised sounds of panic from the chestnut leader. The team bolted.

The coach lurched violently from side to side as Jake made a valiant attempt to force the team to slow down.

Keziah knew
baxt
had run out on them.
Mi-duvel. The chestnut leader. His smell of fear. He
knew
!

The runaway coach swung around a bend. To the west, the moonlit cliff face stretched to the sky. To the east lay the pitch-black gorge below Blackman's Leap.

The sound of terrified horses rent the air. Keziah tried to brace herself against the sides of the coach. She saw the chestnut leader sharply outlined as if, for a moment, he was suspended in space. Sky and earth collided with sickening force as the coach plunged over the precipice, crashing from tree to tree as it hurtled headlong down into the abyss.

The world around her was dark when Keziah regained consciousness in the depths of the gully. Her first instinct was to check her belly and feel for bleeding between her thighs. Miraculously her babe was alive and gave her a few resounding kicks to reassure her. Gingerly she moved her bruised limbs and felt a flash of pain but she thanked
The Del
that the babe had survived. Only a few months earlier she had wanted to be rid of that little life but now its fluttering movements comforted her.

Half hidden by the canopy of trees, jagged glimpses of the moon shed little light on the scene but Keziah could see the battered hulk of the coach, its wheels tossed aside like abandoned toys. The heartbreaking sounds of dying horses could be heard in the darkness.

Dr O'Flaherty looked dazed. His shattered spectacles hung from one ear, his grey beard was streaked with dried blood, but he did not appear to be seriously hurt. That was a blessing, but Keziah was reminded of the cynical belief that the
gaujo
god protected drunks and babies.

Kneeling beside Saranna's body Keziah anxiously watched the doctor fumble for her pulse. She was chilled by the awful changes in the girl. Clots of blood matted her hair. Keziah shuddered at the thought that Saranna's pale face now resembled the carved stone angels found in cemeteries. Was this an omen? The doctor battled to keep some semblance of a professional bedside manner.