Ironbark (26 page)

Keziah flushed, as she was reminded of how inferior she had been made to feel being half
gaujo
.

Feagan looked uncomfortable. ‘She does have a half-white child so I gave her permission to sleep the night in my barn on account of her sickly boy. Only Christian thing to do.' He wagged a cautionary finger at the widows. ‘Remember baby Jesus and the manger.'

Keziah tried to disentangle her thoughts.
At least Saranna had a proper funeral. I hope that satisfies her
mulo.
As soon as I've got the money saved I'll order a proper tombstone for Keziah Smith.

She tried to sound casual. ‘About that coach accident. Is the driver progressing well?'

Feagan hated to be caught short of information. ‘I heard one victim's leg was broken beyond repair, crippled for life.'

Keziah felt weak at the idea of Jake Andersen being crippled. Badly shaken, she collected a newspaper and hurried outside. At the entrance to the laneway she sensed something was wrong. Hearing a man's laboured, rhythmic grunts, she hurried down to the open barn door.

The Aboriginal toddler lay whimpering on the ground. One of the shanty drunks had the black girl rammed against the wall with her skirt pulled over her face. As he violently penetrated her, his mate urged him on, unbuttoning his own fly as he eagerly waited for his turn.

The drunk's act was short-lived. His body thwarted his performance and in anger he slapped the girl's face.

‘You ain't a whore's bootlace! Not worth a farthing.' He tossed down a small coin.

Keziah hurled herself into the barn, seized a scythe and yelled blue murder. The drunk's mate took one look at her and fled for his life. She thrashed the scythe above the drunk's head. When he fell in an attempt to dodge it, she held it over him like the sword of Damocles.

‘Next time you pay for a woman's company treat her with respect!'

Terrified, he stumbled off down the lane.

‘Come!' said Keziah, but the girl looked too afraid to respond, so she gently placed the little boy in his mother's arms.

‘My name is Saranna. I can't afford to pay much but if you agree to work for me, you'll never go hungry or suffer the likes of these brutes again.'

Keziah averted her gaze from the girl's dark eyes to give her time to decide, then offered her the truth. ‘This isn't charity. I desperately need
your
help.'

As she bundled the young mother and child into the buggy, Keziah was aware they were under intense scrutiny from Feagan and the two
widows. Across the street in front of The Shanty with No Name she saw the drunk and all the other customers were lined up on the footpath to gain a good vantage point.

One drunk called out to her. ‘I'll pay you to chase me round the barn anytime you fancy, teacher!'

Keziah shouted back. ‘Just you watch! I'll give you all something to remember me!'

She was suddenly aware that a startled Dr Ross had left the brothel and was peering at her over the top of his spectacles. It was too late to stem the tide of her anger.

Grabbing the reins she drove the buggy full tilt towards the shanty's veranda. At the last moment she veered left but not before she'd forced all the men to leap out of her way. She gave the horse its head and they rattled off down the road. When she looked back through the cloud of dust kicked up in her wake, she was pleased to see a row of men with gaping mouths.

She was sobered by her next thought. Saranna would never have behaved like that.
Mi-duvel! It's such hard work being a lady.

• • •

Back home in Ironbark Keziah quickly put a meal together for her hungry guests and threw her energy into caring for them.

The Aboriginal girl identified herself as Nerida. Her fingers curved towards herself and her little boy and indicated with pride that they were Wiradjuri.

Keziah managed to draw out that Nerida was fifteen. It was hard to define the toddler's age as he was so under-sized but he appeared to be about eighteen months old. His ‘whitefella name' was Murphy. Keziah remembered this was an alias used by One Eye and that the young runt of a bushranger who'd shielded Saranna had called him Murphy. She smiled reassuringly as she pressed food on her guests.

‘Will you be comfortable here?' She indicated the palliasse she had made up for them by the fireplace, but Nerida backed out the door.
Keziah watched her make a small fire some distance from the hut and curl up beside it. Instinctively Keziah dragged her own bedding outside. Unsure if she was giving offence, she placed blankets beside Nerida then lay nearby.

‘May I keep you company? As a child I often slept under the stars.'

Nerida nodded and rocked little Murphy as she sang softly to him in her language.

Keziah saw that Nerida's hand did not have a stump on the pinkie finger that she had noticed on the hands of some Aboriginal women in Sydney Town. She wondered what that custom meant but mindful of Romani respect for privacy did not ask. If Nerida wanted her to know she'd tell her in her own time.

Venus shone brightly like a distant candle in the sky as Keziah whispered her prayers.

‘Take my love to my beloved Gem.' On impulse she added, ‘And give healing to Jake Andersen. You know what men are like. Jake's a man of action. He would never be happy unless he's free to ride and fight.'

• • •

Keziah awoke next morning to find Nerida had already swum in the waterhole and collected berries and grass seeds. The girl's face was serene, her dark eyes luminous. Despite her initial monosyllabic responses her understanding of English was excellent. When Keziah clumsily complimented her on this Nerida's response was eloquent.

‘Know 'em Wiradjuri, plenty Gundungarra, Ngunawal, little Dharug. Talk 'em up Kamilaroi. Irish funny. English not so hard but too much bloody swearing.'

Keziah laughed in agreement. ‘I'd love to learn some of your words. They sound like music.'

In the days that followed they walked and swam together and Nerida showed her how to collect bush tucker. Few words were needed for them to feel safe with each other.

Keziah knew she had to make Nerida's employment official because of the anxious, even hostile, way she'd noticed some local people reacted to Aborigines. Joseph Bloom was away in Goulburn for a Jewish festival and George Hobson had gone to a magistrate to request additional assigned men. Keziah didn't know the exact reason for Gilbert Evans's absence.
No doubt the man's busy informing on someone somewhere.

As the overseer Griggs was in sole charge during their absence, Keziah expected he would be even more arrogant than usual. He was, but she quickly quashed his objections to Nerida.

‘I'll pay for her food and clothing. It will cost my employers not one penny.'

Griggs openly sneered in Nerida's direction. ‘Keep that
gin
away from my men. We don't need more bastards.'

Keziah stood her ground. ‘
You
prevent your men molesting
us
or my employers will learn of your negligence in permitting that stranger who tried to rape me on their property.'

Griggs backed down. Keziah was aware he had spread rumours that she was under the protection of Joseph Bloom. Although that lie made her angry, right now it suited her to call Griggs's bluff for the sake of Nerida's safety.

When Griggs stormed off in anger, she called after him. ‘If there's any more trouble, my friend Joseph Bloom will hold you accountable.'

That evening while Nerida suckled Murphy at their campfire, Keziah saw the girl cast discreet glances at the way she braced her back to counteract the weight of her belly. Keziah hastily changed her stance but Nerida's voice was soft and reassuring.

‘You don't worry, Miss. Your time come we go walkabout. Long time bring out many bubbas. All grow strong. Reckon whitefella bubba come out pretty much same like blackfella.'

Keziah grasped Nerida's shoulders and burst into tears. ‘No one in this whole country knows the truth, Nerida. How could you tell I was so afraid to face the birth alone?'

‘Belly your business. But I know women's business. Bubba come out plenty clever.'

‘I believe you, Nerida!' Out of sheer relief Keziah burst into a Romani song. Weaving her hands and arching her back, her stamping feet dictated the rhythm that Nerida tapped out, and her fear was transformed into their joyous music.

• • •

Keziah sat at her teacher's desk and looked around at the children absorbed in drawing on the blackboard the picture of sailing ships, convicts lined up before a flagpole flying the Union Jack and Aborigines dancing at a corroboree. She thought it might be a rose-coloured version of the arrival of the First Fleet in 1788 but she wasn't going to ask them to draw hungry, emaciated convicts and angry Aborigines which might be a picture closer to the truth. Big Bruce had finished his work and was helping the little ones.

She glanced up at the calendar. Tomorrow was 26 January. Foundation Day. The fiftieth anniversary of the British settlement at Port Jackson and the hoisting of the Union Jack. She was told it would be a holiday for the whole colony. No school, no work, much carousing by everyone bond and free.

She should be excited but she was too tired to feel any emotion. For weeks the Australian heat had been a growing torment. Nerida adamantly refused to continue the ritual of lacing her into Saranna's corset on the grounds that, ‘This fella corset bad for bubba.'

Despite the heat Keziah pulled her woollen shawl closer around her. Beads of perspiration trickled down her neck. Her eyes widened in alarm at the tinkling sound of water. She glanced down in horror at the puddle under her seat. Her time had come!

Then everything went black.

• • •

Keziah opened her eyes to find she was lying on the floor with a ring of anxious children's faces peering down at her. Remembering the reason
she fainted, she deliberately upset the water jug to camouflage the fact that her waters had broken. Her babe was demanding to be born.

‘Winnie, fetch Nerida, please!' The little freckled redhead obeyed with alacrity. Keziah forced a smile as waves of pain accompanied each contraction.

‘I'll stay with you!' Big Bruce volunteered.

‘Thank you no, Bruce. Please help the little ones mount their ponies.' She clenched her teeth. ‘Happy Foundation Day, children! I'll see you all in – aaah! It's early – but go home
now
!'

‘Thank you, Miss Plews!' The children scattered in all directions.

Nerida raced in with Murphy clinging to her back to find Keziah in tears.

‘Nerida! It's coming far too early. My babe will die!'

‘Don't you worry, Saranna.'

Keziah leaned on Nerida as they made their way to the chosen place – a secluded bank by the creek, so densely screened by bushes it was like a secret room open to the sky. Very soon she needed the linen gag Nerida placed in her mouth to muffle her cries.

She watched Nerida stoke up a small fire and fill a bowl with creek water, but she kept removing the gag to give Nerida anxious instructions.

‘Keep a sharp lookout. If anyone knows what's happening, I'm lost!'

Nerida nodded calmly and kept replacing the gag in her mouth. Keziah realised that Nerida's claim was no idle boast. Experienced and confident she expertly delivered the babe. What it lacked in size it made up for in the strength of its lungs.

‘Mi-duvel!'
Keziah wailed, ‘The whole of Ironbark will hear him!'

‘Clever, huh? Him good little bubba. Fat belly.' Nerida proudly carried the infant to the fire, cradling him as she chanted softly. Keziah lay watching them in wonder, so absorbed in this moment she no longer looked around to see if anyone had stumbled on the scene.

At her first sight of the babe she felt waves of confusion and relief.
No love. Would this funny little thing have the strength to survive? She looked at his downy blond hair and features for a resemblance to Caleb Morgan. His skin was a lighter shade of olive than her own. Dark blue eyes stared back at her. She counted his fingers and toes. Exquisite. Her hatred of Caleb fought against her awe that this unwanted little being was so perfectly formed.

The Morgans' treacherous web now seemed so distant. With instinctive wisdom the babe seemed to sense her ambiguity about him. He clutched her finger in a grip that forced her to speak to him.

‘Maduveleste,'
Keziah said as she kissed his forehead. She held Nerida's hand and added, ‘God bless you also, Nerida.'

The babe's gaze was serious and unblinking.

‘Can I ever forget where you came from?' she asked him softly. ‘If anyone can teach me to love again,
you
can little boy.
Please
live!'

Keziah's smile to Nerida needed no words after the experience they had just shared. Their lives were parallel – both had been betrayed by the fathers of their babies.

Nerida watched the babe suckling. ‘Him small but smart. Know what to do, all right!'

Keziah looked into his eyes and swore her strongest Romani oath.

‘I swear to you By My Father's Hand. I will love you, protect you and give you the best possible life I can make for you!'

Mindful of her traditions Keziah burned all the linen used in the birth. Too weary to walk, she crawled with the baby to the edge of the creek, wet his head and whispered his true name that must remain secret to protect him from the Evil One,
The Beng
.

She looked up, uneasy at the unexpected sight of a horseman disappearing into the bush.

• • •

Under cover of darkness they returned to the cottage just before dawn. Keziah crawled into bed and watched Nerida wrap the sleeping babe in a cocoon of linen before placing him in a pillow-lined fruit box.