Ironbark (41 page)

‘He won't
know
of it, m'lad. When he returns from Sydney Town you'll be ancient history. Miles away in Ironbark begging your bride to heal your stripes.'

‘You promised me I'd never be flogged!'

‘Me promise a
felon
? What gave you that idea? Twenty, did I say? I'll be generous and make it thirty. Six o'clock tomorrow. Get a good night's sleep, Daniel Browne.
I shall
.'

The Devil Himself rode off whistling. Daniel watched horse and rider disappear from sight.

For three years I prayed, lied, cheated, worked myself ragged. I sold my soul – all for nothing.

Daniel knew his nemesis had finally arrived. What good would it do to pray to Our Lady? There was no power stronger than the Devil Himself.

• • •

At five o'clock the next morning, Daniel was dragged from his bed by two of Iago's henchmen who made crude jokes about his abject terror. They tied him to the whipping frame, ripped open his ragged shirt to bare his back in readiness for the lash. And left him there. Alone. Daniel realised an hour had passed. In the distance the bell rang for six o'clock mass. The Devil Himself rode up smiling, accompanied by the scourger, whip in hand.

‘Postpone the flogging till tomorrow,' he ordered and rode away.

This pattern was repeated daily until Daniel realised with horror the new rules of the game.

The bastard's grown bored with merely watching floggings. He's now getting his pleasure savouring
my fear.

Bolthole Valley was buzzing with rumours about the extraordinary petition the big landowners planned to present to Governor Gipps.

Jake fronted Feagan and wasted no time. ‘What's the strength of this petition to the gov demanding he place our whole county under martial law? Is it a joke or what?'

Feagan drew himself up to his full height of five feet two inches. ‘A man never jokes about martial law.'

‘That's bloody true,' said Jake. ‘If Gipps caves in we're in for another bloodbath.'

Jake marched out of the general store, leapt into the wagon and pushed Horatio to the limit in the cross-country drive to Ironbark.

It was a Friday. That meant the end of the working week for Keziah. No doubt on Sunday Daniel would leave Gideon Park at the crack of dawn to ride over for another reading of the banns. But with any luck Jake would find her alone today.

• • • 

‘How's life, mate?' Leaning in the doorway of Keziah's cottage, Jake sized up her mood. Today she appeared to be on a steady course, but he'd been wrong about her moods before.

A blue smock covered her dress as she bent over schoolbooks. He liked the way she had trouble controlling her hair. Half of it was piled on top of her head, half escaped in waves. Red ink stained the hand that held her quill.

‘What's wrong?' she asked quietly. ‘Is it Gem?'

Jake wondered,
Will the time ever come when Gem isn't uppermost in her mind?

‘Gem's safe as far as I know, but best you hear the news from me. Terence Ogden's getting up a petition to the governor demanding he place us under martial law. Thomas Icely's also pressuring the surveyor-general about his plans for the village of Carcoar near Bathurst and demanding protection from bushrangers. I reckon if Icely climbs on board we're history.'

Keziah turned pale. Jake pressed on. ‘Martial law means a massive increase in mounted police and a resident magistrate. So bushrangers will be put on trial in our neck of the woods instead of being sent to Sydney Town, Bathurst, Berrima or wherever.'

‘If you mean string bolters up without a fair trial, say so,' she said.

Jake was aware how martial law would affect Gem and the other poor bastards he called mates. Gem was still at large. Will Martens was busy adding to the legend of Jabber Jabber and had notched up so many daring escapes from custody it had become a joke.

‘Will Governor Gipps give in to this petition?' Keziah asked.

‘You tell me,' he said pointedly.

‘I'm not clairvoyant twenty-four hours a day,' she said.

‘Martial law's an extreme measure – and bloody expensive on the public purse. There's a public rally in Bolthole tonight to debate it. Ogden and his cronies are behind it. I reckon it's a good idea to know thy enemy. You girls fancy coming along for the ride?'

Keziah looked anxious. ‘Will they let you take Nerida inside?'

‘Just watch me!' said Jake.

‘Do you see Ogden and Icely as the enemy?' Keziah asked as she hurriedly washed Gabriel's hands and face.

‘Ogden ain't all bad. But he's a bit hungry for power and he's out to rival Icely's empire. Icely's built up ninety thousand acres with an army of free convict labour. He's moved his family back to Sydney Town. He's bright enough to know bushrangers see him as a prime target for assassination.'

Keziah tried to be fair to Icely. ‘You can't blame a man for protecting his family.'

‘I don't. But most big landholders won't admit the root cause is the evils of the system. The Brits claim they're gunna finish offloading convicts in this colony but they'll still be transporting them to Van Diemen's Land and other places. The poor buggers serving out their time are treated worse than dogs. Struth, don't get me started, Kez, or I'll end up in the Watch House again!'

‘No, you won't! Remember you've got two women and children in your care tonight!'

Dressed and at the ready, Gabriel made a beeline for Jake.

‘Blow me down, Gabe! Look how big you've grown!' Jake swept the boy onto his shoulders.

Dressed in her Sunday best, Keziah gave Jake that special look of hers that always made him feel uncomfortable. As if she trusted him to fix everything.

‘Does martial law mean we'll have public hangings in the street again?'

‘Yeah, but that won't change a ruddy thing. When it comes to knowing what goes on down here, the British government wouldn't know its toffee nose from its ar—' He hastily switched his intended word to ‘arm' in deference to Gabriel.

He rose. ‘Let's hope Gipps won't buckle under. The last time we got lumbered with martial law was in Windradyne's time. He was known by his whitefella name, Saturday. Don't mention those names in front of Nerida as it hurts too much. Mention of any dead black's name is taboo.'

Keziah nodded. ‘For my people too.'

Nerida was already seated in the wagon with Murphy scrubbed and serious sitting on her lap when Keziah climbed on board with Gabriel.

‘I'll pin my hair up while we're driving.'

Jake took one look at her hair blowing around her head like a soft cloud. ‘Don't be silly. Makes you look halfway decent.'

He grinned as he ducked her swinging reticule.

When Keziah entered Bolthole Valley's community hall she saw local settlers huddled in rows like black crows on a stockyard fence. Women aired their best hats and shawls. Men reflected every rung of the social ladder from formal suits to fustian work clothes. Their faces covered a range of hirsute fashion: beards, mutton-chop whiskers, moustaches.

Keziah noticed Jake was one of the minority among the younger men who was clean-shaven.
Funny how he never goes unshaven these days.

She knew most people had come to push the law and order petition through and that some genuinely feared convict insurrection. For others the rally was a social event too good to miss. Excitement hovered in the air like heat haze.

Jake waited until the meeting began before he craftily manoeuvred her and Nerida into the back row by the door to avoid drawing attention to Nerida, whose face was hidden behind the wings of her bonnet. With the little boys seated on their laps, Keziah listened intently to the speakers' rhetoric.

Terence Ogden's forthright Cornish accent, upright bearing and dignified smoky beard marked him as a man for whom it was second nature to control people's lives – free or bond. He made it clear he supported Icely's arguments for increased protection from bushrangers then read out the signatures on his own petition and invited every man to make his mark. His speech met with spontaneous applause.

The next speaker had all the fire of a Baptist preacher. Every sentence was punctuated by agreement from the crowd. Keziah half expected ‘hallelujahs'.

‘Governor Gipps must listen to the voice of the people. Martial law is imperative to stop bushrangers from holding to ransom the community we gave our lifeblood to build. We urgently require more mounted police here. We must restore law and order in the farthest outpost of Her Majesty's empire. Hunt down godless desperadoes. We need a resident magistrate empowered to send villains like One Eye,
Jabber Jabber and that vagabond Gypsy Gem Smith to the gallows!'

Thunderous applause carried the vote. Keziah could barely control her rage. She longed to defend Gem, but she had to keep up her respectable veneer to protect Gabriel. She held the boy's sleepy head against her breast and tried to confront her confusion. Unless a miracle occurred, before the full moon she would be legally bound to Daniel Browne. Was she being totally honest about her reasons for agreeing to the marriage? At first it had been to preserve the life she had built and to protect Gabriel from claims by the Morgan family. But what really tied her to life in Ironbark? By impersonating Saranna had she abandoned her own Romani standards? Or was it because for the first time in her life she enjoyed respect in the eyes of a
gaujo
community?

She longed to confide in some wise person before it was too late.

At the very moment that Keziah looked across the hall it was as if some invisible wheel controlling her life had slipped a cog. She was now on a very different path. Jake stood shoulder to the wall, his gaze fixed on Ogden and his ruling-class cohorts. The light from a wall bracket threw his features into relief. It was as if she was seeing Jake for the very first time. His profile revealed strength, humour and arrogance brushed with the sensitivity he tried to disguise. It was the head of a young prince on a medieval coin. She was struck by the thought.
Jake is really quite handsome.

Confused by her sudden insight, she turned her attention to Gilbert Evans's tirade about the depravity of all bushrangers. Keziah wanted to shout:
Hypocrite! You preach from the pulpit on Sundays but we all know you own a brothel here in Bolthole Valley.

She remained silent, hating herself for her impotence. How many of these men had ordered their assigned men flogged for trivial reasons? How many averted their eyes from those forced to work their land with empty bellies? Hobson and Bloom were humane masters. But how many others here tonight were free of guilt?

Gilbert Evans's voice was slippery. ‘There are traitors in our midst
who give succour to bushrangers and help them escape. These men will refuse to sign our petition!'

Keziah looked across into Jake's steel-grey eyes and read his message.
He can't swallow any more of this! Mi-duvel! Jake must not go to prison!

It was then Keziah found her courage. She jumped to her feet and challenged Gilbert Evans. ‘Show me a petition to outlaw the lash and I'll gladly sign that! A humane system wouldn't need martial law!'

Scores of faces turned to gape at her. Mrs Hill, one of the widows Keziah saw regularly in Feagan's General Store, pointed a finger at Nerida. ‘That's One Eye's
gin
. What's she doing here?
Spying
for him!'

Two men grabbed hold of Nerida. Gabriel slid to the floor as Keziah lunged forward to beat them off.

Jake yelled as he hurled his body into the fray. ‘Take your hands off those women, they're with me!'

Burly men released Nerida, then swarmed to remove Jake from the scene. He seized the moment to cry, ‘Damn the system. End it now!' An Irishman picked up the chant to be joined by a few brave voices. At the back of the hall fists were flying.

Somebody grabbed hold of the petition and flung it up in the air. Papers showered across the room to be trampled underfoot.

• • • 

Driving home, Keziah saw that Jake's shirt collar was torn, but he was light of heart enough to deliver his favourite version of
The Wild Colonial Boy
with all verses intact. Keziah was moved by the depth of feeling in his voice. She realised that everything Jake said and did was an odd filter for his strong, yet half-concealed, love of this land of his.

‘Not long ago,' said Jake, ‘that song got people so riled they were banned from singing it in public houses.' They both knew she knew this but he enjoyed saying it anyway.

‘Did it stop them?' she asked.

‘Nah. They just drank more grog and sang louder.'

‘Was Bold Jack Donahoe a good man?'

Jake hedged his bets. ‘Many as thought so. He died game. Surrounded by a detachment of soldiers and traps in his final gunfight. He insulted them and swore at them to “come on and get me” before a trooper shot him dead. Twenty-six. My age. He was my hero as a boy. Didn't worry my mam none, being Irish herself. Funny thing the power of a song.'

‘My father played music that made you weep or dance. Or fight to the death.'

Jake chewed this over for a minute. ‘You named the little Rom after him.'

She was surprised by his perception. ‘I never told you that!'

‘Didn't have to.'

When they arrived at her cottage, Jake walked Nerida to her
goondie
with the sleeping Murphy slung over his shoulder. ‘Goodnight, Neri. Sorry about the ruckus.'

‘You a good man, Jake.' She added with a straight face, ‘For a
gubba
.'

Jake grinned. ‘I'm the best of a bad lot of white men, right?'

After he had carried Gabriel off to bed, Keziah risked asking her question. ‘Jake, could you stay for a drink? I need your advice.'