Miles Off Course (25 page)

“What the hell?” Milton asked, wincing. The jarring pace had been hard on his injured hand. “What’s going on, Clyde? We could have got them out if we’d hooked up
all the horses. Twenty minutes and…”

“Indeed, Mr. Jones. Your reluctance to give aid to a stranded traveller is nothing less than discourteous and contrary to the tradition of the country!” Sarah Brent was not
impressed. “I trust you had a good reason for being so rude.”

Clyde looked anxiously back up the road. “Those are the blokes that jumped Rowly at Caves House.” He scowled at the sun, now nearly one with the western horizon. “We’d
better get moving,” he said. “They’re stuck for the moment but I want to get back to Rowly before some more courteous stockman pulls them out.”

R
owland and Edna had been on horseback for an hour or so, their hands bound in front of them as Moran and Andy Cassidy led their mounts. They were
following the faintest of trails which picked through trees into the O’Shea lease. A ravine appeared unexpectedly in a heavily wooded area. The stream was fast moving and the walls of the
valley which led down to it were steep and rocky.

Edna caught Rowland’s eye and smiled briefly. She wanted him to know that she was all right. They hadn’t hurt her. They had been rougher with Rowland, of course, but even so…
She hoped it meant that the stockmen didn’t intend to kill them.

Lofty Cassidy had galloped ahead with Clancy Glover, and so when they came upon the rough camp at the bottom of the ravine, there was already a fire blazing under the breath of the bellows. The
shadows were lengthening and it was cold, but there was still light.

The area appeared to have been prospected at one time. Wooden sluices and races were visible in abandoned disrepair. The only vegetation in the cleared camp was a half-dead tree growing quite
near the stream, around which was a long thick chain. The chain appeared to disappear into the valley wall.

Moran pulled on it. “Get out here, Jackie. You’ve got visitors.”

For a moment there was nothing and Moran pulled again. “Get out here!”

Edna watched as a man emerged from what must have been a cave in the ravine wall. He was a black man, large—taller even than Rowland but broad and solid. His waist was generous and it was
only the sheer breadth of his shoulders that caused his torso to taper. He walked slowly, hampered by the iron attached to his ankle. Stopping before Rowland’s horse, he raised his face. An
untrimmed beard hid his jaw but it was hard to miss the intense blue of his eyes, a cobalt gaze so like the one that Edna had known for years.

“Well, here’s your man, Sinclair.” Blue Cassidy reached over and shoved Rowland hard.

With his hands bound in front of him, Rowland was unable to right himself and fell out of the saddle, hitting the earth with an ungainly thud.

Simpson reacted angrily. “Leave the kid alone, you bastards!”

“Mind your mouth, Simpson!”

Rowland rose to his knees. “It’s okay, Harry.”

Simpson helped him stand. “Bloody oath…
gagamin
… what’re you doing here?”

Rowland smiled, relieved to find Harry Simpson, but embarrassed to be doing so as a prisoner himself. “Glad you’re not dead, Harry.”

“We haven’t time for flaming reunions,” Moran snapped. “Shackle them and let’s get out of here.”

“What… even the girl?”

“Of course the bloody girl, unless you’re willing to shoot her.”

Apparently they were not, and so Lofty Cassidy got to work heating iron to shackle them to the tree alongside Simpson. Lofty was an efficient smith and the process did not take long. Edna did
not struggle. It did not seem wise in the presence of red hot metal.

Rowland simmered silently, furious—the way Andy Cassidy looked at Edna made him uneasy. And so he did not resist as he was chained to a tree like a dog.

Once they had all been shackled, Rowland was searched and divested of his wallet and his pocket knife. Blue Cassidy also found the artist’s notebook in his jacket’s inside pocket. He
flicked through the pages slowly.

“Hey, you’re not a bad drawer, Sinclair. Bloody hell!” He whistled and glanced at Edna as he found some old sketches Rowland had made for the painting of a nude. Rowland tried
to snatch the notebook back but Blue jerked it away gleefully and continued turning the pages. “Oi, Boss, look at this… it’s you.”

Moran strode over impatiently and studied the sketches Rowland had made of him after their first meeting. He tore them out. “I’m flattered Sinclair, but I had better hold onto
these.”

Blue Cassidy tore out the sketches of Edna and stuffed them under his shirt. “It’ll keep me warm,” he said, laughing as he threw the dishevelled notebook back at Rowland.

“Rowly…” Edna watched him smoulder. “Just let him have them,” she whispered.

Lofty cut the ropes which bound Edna and Rowland’s hands. “The chains are long enough to let you into the cave, and to the stream if you need to drink,” he said.

Glover flung a hessian sack onto the ground. “There’s enough tucker in there for a couple of days. One of us will be back when it runs out.” He grinned. “Couldn’t
let the boss starve, could we?”

Rowland glowered at him in return.

Andy Cassidy sniggered and walked over to nudge Rowland. “Cheer up, Sinclair.” He nodded at Edna and winked. “It’d be right cosy if there wasn’t three of
you… still she might…”

That was too much for Rowland. He punched Andy in the mouth.

Moran and Blue Cassidy stepped in. Lofty dragged his brother to his feet.

Seizing Rowland by the throat, Blue raised his other fist. “Why I ought to…”

Harry Simpson grabbed the stockman’s arm. “Leave him be,” he growled.

Blue Cassidy responded by swinging at Simpson. Rowland started after Cassidy and Glover jumped into the fray.

For a moment it seemed that shackled or not, there would be an all-in fight, and then Moran pulled Blue and Glover away. “We haven’t got time for this. Just get on your bloody horses
and let’s get outta here.”

Blue swore at Rowland, but he mounted. Moran’s men rode out of the ravine just ahead of the last light.

Rowland watched them go, still fuming.

Harry Simpson sighed as he spat blood and gingerly touched his split lip. “So, what are you doing here, Rowly?”

“Can’t you tell? I’m rescuing you.”

Simpson laughed and clipped Rowland playfully on the side of the head. He left his large hand on Rowland’s shoulder.

Edna looked on quietly, intrigued, unaware that she was shivering. Rowland took off his own jacket and placed it around her shoulders as he introduced Harry Simpson to the sculptress.

“Delighted to meet you, Miss Higgins,” Simpson said, taking the hand she offered him. “Though I’m real sorry you’ve been dragged into this… this unfortunate
mess.”

“I’m very pleased to know you, Mr. Simpson.” Edna gazed thoughtfully into the familiar blue of his eyes. “Rowly’s been rather worried about you.”

“Has he just?” Simpson pulled at the long chain which secured them all to the tree. “What say we get into the cave? It’s not posh, and it’s crawling with swallows
among other things, but it’s warmer than out here.”

“Capital,” Rowland said, somewhat unenthusiastically. He squatted to test the chain. “How strong’s this chain, Harry?”

Simpson shook his head. “I’m still here.”

They walked the few yards to the valley wall. Edna and Rowland had been shackled along the same length of chain that secured Simpson. There were several yards of chain between them and enough
length overall to allow them all to enter the cave without losing slack. The entrance to the cave was narrow and steep, and they had to slip into it in single file. It opened into a large cavern.
Edna found Rowland’s arm as they stumbled. The darkness was close, oppressive. The only light came from the glowing embers of a fire which Simpson stoked and coaxed into a brighter flame.
There was sufficient draught to prevent the cave being filled with smoke so there must have been openings further up. In a while their eyes adjusted a little and they could make out the
cave’s interior.

The cavern was not empty. Its walls were lined with baskets and boxes, a few hessian sacks, some waggas and swags. Edna gasped as her eyes fell upon a stack of what looked like coffins.

Simpson looked up from the fire. “Oh yes, sorry, I should have warned you. Moran’s gang’s been using this place to store things.”

“Coffins?”

“They’re not for us,” Simpson assured her. “The Cassidys have been digging up Chinese graves near the old goldfields.”

“Whatever for?”

“Some people say the Chinamen bury their gold with their dead.”

“So they’ve been digging people up?” Rowland was horrified.

“Afraid so. They got all these from the ravine… apparently there were a whole bunch of Chinamen prospecting out here at one time.”

Edna gulped. “Are the bones…?”

“Try not to think about it,” Simpson advised.

Rowland rubbed his brow. “What the hell aren’t these chaps up to?”

“You know about the cattle stealing then?”

Rowland nodded. “Are they on O’Shea’s payroll?”

“Can’t prove it, but why else would they brand our cattle as O’Shea’s?”

“So this is all about stealing cattle?” Edna sat on a stump which had been placed close to the fire and rummaged through the sack that Glover had left them. She extracted a tin of
Arnott’s biscuits.

Simpson shook his head. “They’re just filling in time with the rebranding. They’re treasure hunting.”

“They’re what?” Rowland asked, from where he was poking around among the boxes cluttering the wall.

“I’ve checked those, Rowly,” Simpson said. “There’s nothing in there that’ll help us break these chains.”

“What treasure, Mr. Simpson?” Edna asked.

Simpson grinned. “You met Clancy Glover?”

Edna nodded.

“Well it seems Clancy had a great uncle or something who rode with Ben Hall.”

“Ben Hall, the bushranger?” Edna asked through a mouthful of milk arrowroot biscuit. She passed the tin to Simpson.

“Apparently.” Simpson helped himself to a handful of biscuits. “Rowly, there really isn’t anything there… Anyway the story goes that Glover’s uncle hid the
proceeds of the Eugowra stagecoach robbery in one of the caves near Blue Waterholes.”

“But Blue Waterholes is miles from here.” Rowland was still rummaging through boxes.

“That’s the interesting bit. Glover’s stash has never been found… Clancy reckons he’s got some family secret, that the gold was never at Blue Waterholes but out
here. They’ve been hunting through every cave in the area the whole time they’ve supposedly been looking after the Sinclair herd.”

“So they don’t plan to kill us?” Edna said, taking another biscuit.

“No, they just want us out of the way till they find this gold. They’re thugs, but probably not murderers.”

“Comforting,” Rowland murmured, as he began to check the baskets.

“Rowly, no!” Simpson dropped the tin of biscuits and leaped up. The chain snapped taut and he was stopped short. Edna was pulled off her stump. She heard Rowland curse and looked up
to see him slamming down the lid of a large cylindrical basket.

Simpson unsnagged the chain and launched himself at Rowland and the basket, forgetting entirely that they were both connected to Edna who found herself on the cave floor. Simpson refastened the
strap that secured the lid. “Damn it Rowly, I told you to leave this stuff alone!”

Rowland leaned back against the cave wall. His right hand was clasped over his upper left arm.

“Did it get you? Did it get you, Rowly?”

“Yes.”