Ironbark (33 page)

When Jake gave her a sidelong glance, Keziah felt irritated.
Does he think I'm so stupid I don't know he's a regular at the House of the Four Sisters?

‘Look, Kez, I brought you here because I found something. Don't get excited. Might be nothing. You said you Romanies leave signs to show the direction you've taken?'

‘You've found a
patrin
?' Her heart began to race.

‘You tell
me
.'

They had reached a fork in the track. Keziah gave a cry of recognition at a bunch of twigs in which one stick pointed like an arrow.

‘It's Gem's message to me! I
knew
he was close by!'

Clutching the
patrin
she ran ahead with Gabriel bouncing in the dillybag. At each fork in the path she found a fresh sign. She saw Jake following closely behind on full alert, his left hand flexed ready to draw the pistol from his belt.

‘You don't need that,' she said firmly. ‘Gem is no threat to us.'

‘No, but there's no accounting for the violent company he keeps.'

They waded across the creek at a shallow ribbon crossing where a shelf of rocks formed a miniature waterfall. On the far side Jake examined a thick screen of branches and pointed out they were so recently axed from a bloodwood tree, the sap was running free like blood. A few yards further on the bush revealed an oval-shaped clearing, like a small cricket field.

Keziah's disappointment was acute. She set Gabriel down on the grass and allowed him to crawl free.

‘I can't believe Gem tricked me,' she said in despair.

‘Maybe he didn't. Just keep your distance,' Jake said quietly. ‘You're Gem's woman. Mateship will only stretch so far.'

He walked a few yards ahead of her then flicked a finger to draw her attention to a quivering ti-tree. ‘Stay perfectly still. He
didn't
trick you.'

A beautiful brumby colt emerged from the bush. Jet black and spirited, his blaze was shaped like a question mark. The rope that tethered him gave him ample freedom to graze and drink creek water. He looked wary of human contact. Keziah's throat tightened at the sight of his wild beauty, she was close to tears.

‘I could break him in for you but there ain't enough time today,' said Jake.

Keziah shook her head. ‘This is Gem's special gift to me. He's expecting me to do it.'

‘Righto.' Jake stretched out in an open spot where Gabriel could crawl in safety.

‘Don't let him play with snakes!' warned Keziah.

‘I'm a bloody expert,' he claimed. ‘Grew up looking after seven little brothers.'

Keziah smiled as she watched him feed Gabriel blackberries. She noted with pride the generous heart of her little son, who poked berries into Jake's mouth, sharing them with him.

The time had come. Quietly she moved away from them both, crossed over to the creek and sat cross-legged, no farther from the brumby than the length of his rope. She remained silent and completely still as she waited for the colt to lose his fear and come to her.

I'll wait for you, my brumby – in the same way I'll wait for you, Gem. Just as long as it takes.

• • •

All afternoon Jake sat watching Keziah and the brumby, impressed by her patience and Romani horse-breaking skills. He had previously seen her calm horses but a wild brumby was a different matter. She placed a lump of sugar in the sweat of her armpit then fed the sugar to the colt
to bond him. Like magic, the brumby grew so obedient Keziah nuzzled him and whispered secret things in his ear.

Jake was embarrassed to discover he had a lump in his throat. It was like watching two people falling in love. He knew the brumby stood in place of Gem.

Gabriel had fallen asleep in the crook of Jake's arm, with a ring of blackberry juice staining his little mouth. Jake took off his hat to shade the boy's face from the sun, but he couldn't take his eyes from Keziah, her endless patience, her magical sense of timing, as if in truth she was reading the colt's thoughts.

Jake recognised when the perfect moment had come. Keziah hoisted her long skirt and slipped effortlessly astride the colt's bare back. As she rode him around the clearing, Jake saw the pride in her eyes and in the tilt of her head.

‘No doubt about you, Kez. You've got a bloody clever way with horses.'

‘My father taught me.'

After the brumby circled for the third time, content to have her on his back, Keziah rewarded him with wild bush apples. Then she dismounted, gently tethered the colt and raced off to wash her hands in the creek.

‘You must be ravenous. I lost all sense of time,' she apologised.

Jake allowed her to press delicious food on him. She wiped Gabriel's face and hands with her handkerchief then cut up fruit for Gabriel, taking care of them both before feeding herself like a hungry child. When they were down to the last slice of cake she broke it in two and placed one half in Jake's mouth.

‘Try this. It's like a kiss – good for nothing until it's shared between two.'

Jake's eyes widened.
Jesus! No wonder she gets into trouble.

Keziah seemed quite oblivious. ‘That's an old Romani proverb.'

Jake gulped and nodded. ‘If it isn't some dark Romani secret, what
did Gem's message say? Looked to me like any old bunch of twigs. But it sure got you excited!'

‘A horse is the most precious gift a Rom can give. This brumby is Gem's special message. It tells me he is free, his spirit unbroken. He knows where I am and he will come to me – whenever he's free to reveal himself.'

She impulsively flung her arms around Jake's neck and hugged him. ‘Thank you, Jake. I would never have found the brumby but for you!'

Jake felt a touch nervous. ‘Watch your step, Kez. I don't fancy getting a bullet in my heart from a jealous husband. Seeing as I haven't had the pleasure of earning it!'

Her voice was soft as she gestured to the bush. ‘Gem isn't here. Believe me, I'd know. Every human being has their own aura and smell. When you love someone you can always tell when they are near.'

The intensity of Keziah's love for Gem was naked and unashamedly passionate. Jake had never seen such a look on a woman's face before.
No woman ever looked at me like that.

The sun was sinking fast. He jumped up and pulled Keziah to her feet.

‘I reckon Gem'll come to you soon, when that bastard Gil Evans isn't snooping around. I'm dead happy you've found each other, Kez.' He wasn't sure if he meant the brumby or Gem. Maybe it was the same thing.

He led the way home on Horatio. He tried to regain his lightness of heart as he sang the rollicking verses of
Botany Bay
– the same song he had sung to little Pearl when she rode perched in front of him, her piping voice joining him in the final words of the chorus, ‘Singing too-ral, li-ooral, li-addity … we're bound for Botany Bay.'

Jake closed his mind to that painful image. He looked down at little Gabriel riding like a prince within the protection of his arms. The boy was so responsive to each bird and bush animal that Jake needed to hold him tight to prevent Gabriel joyously catapulting into space.

Keziah rode the brumby bareback, apparently unconcerned that Jake could see her legs.
I reckon she doesn't think of me as a man, I'm just her mate. So why should I remind her of her Romani modesty? She's got the best god-damned ankles I ever saw on a woman.

But when Keziah invited him to stay for supper Jake forced himself to decline. What he had seen that day with the business of the brumby was so private he suspected she would prefer to be alone with her thoughts.

‘Thanks, but I reckon I'll just hop over to Bolthole Valley to see a mate. I've been a bit neglectful lately.' He mounted Horatio and turned in the saddle. ‘Be a good girl, eh?'

• • •

Galloping towards Bolthole Valley Jake tried to dismiss all thoughts of Keziah, Gem and the brumby. He'd recently given her a Shetland pony for little Gabriel to learn to ride, but he knew nothing could ever surpass Gem's gift of the brumby.

He switched his thoughts to Lily Pompadour and his regular overnight booking with her as his ‘wife'. Their arrangement was ironclad. If Jake didn't turn up on a Wednesday, Lily took no other clients that night and Jake paid her double on his next visit. He managed to dismiss the idea of the clients she entertained the rest of the week but he was very territorial about his Wednesday nights.

Tonight as he urged Horatio towards Madam Fleur's, Jake was anxious to see Lily. Although blatantly female she was as earthy as a man and always made him laugh before, during and after they pleasured each other.

That night Lily seemed determined to make every round a winner. No complaints from Jake. Afterwards he lay back pleased with himself and drank deeply of the special red wine Lily always chose for him. He became aware that Lily had been hidden behind her oriental screen for some time.

‘What are you up to now, Lil?'

She appeared wearing Jake's jackeroo hat on top of her wild auburn locks, his red neckerchief around her throat and stood astride in his heeled riding boots, otherwise stark naked. Fists on her hips, Lily aped a masculine pose and barked in a gruff voice.

‘I've paid good money for you! So you'd better be worth it. Live up to the reputation of the house or I'll burn the place down! And have you run out of town!'

Jake spluttered on his wine and collapsed on the bed helpless with laughter. Lily marched over. ‘I'm serious! Get your clothes off at once, you tramp!' she ordered.

As they rolled around the bed Lily was tough-mouthed and on the offensive.

Jake surrendered. ‘I'll do anything you want! Just leave the hat on! I'm seeing you in a whole new light, Lil!' He began chortling again, delighted by her rage.

Lily's performance was amazing, attuned to him on almost every level. Jake didn't bother to question this change in her. He would pay her well. She was such an absorbing diversion she managed to keep at bay all his thoughts of
patrins
, brumbies, Gem and above all that look on Keziah's face when she'd placed the cake in his mouth and said, ‘It's like a kiss – good for nothing until it's shared between two.'

Daniel Browne felt that light was his salvation, art the key to his survival. Australian sunlight had a seductive quality that transformed everything he was desperate to draw; scenes, landscapes, above all portraits. February 1839 was well into the second year of the drought and his second year at Gideon Park, and his limited views of the world around him showed the land to be parched and struggling for survival. He had recorded the brutality, loneliness and degradation of convict life in whatever hours he could steal before daylight died. Each night, in despair, he watched the sun sink below the horizon to give England a new day. He envied the sun's power to return home. In his heart he knew he never would.

At the point of total despair his prayer had been answered that fateful day when the Currency Lad rode into his life. The art materials Jake Andersen later brought him were manna from heaven. But it was more than that. Jake fired his artist's imagination. He was the symbol of freedom – proof there
was
life beyond the hell that the Devil Himself had created in his own image.

Since then Daniel had sketched and painted Jake from memory in scores of moods and angles, culminating in a portrait in oils so powerful, so alive it captured the Currency Lad's unique quality. Daniel was struck by the thought.
Jake is the first person I've ever trusted.

Before Christmas Daniel had risked the fury of the Devil Himself by secretly waylaying Jonstone to show him this portrait. The gamble had paid off. His master had commissioned him to paint his three-year-old daughter Victoria.

Now as Daniel hurried towards the Jonstone mansion as instructed, he prayed that today would prove a red-letter day.
I wouldn't be trapped
here if Saranna had kept her promise. I must find a way to get to Ironbark. Force her hand.

Daniel paced back and forth along the terrace outside his master's study. Every muscle in his body ached from tension. He caught glimpses of Julian Jonstone through the French windows, impassively scrutinising the oil painting Daniel had delivered. Today was the acid test; his patron's verdict.

The next time he passed the room Daniel was overcome by irritation. His work lay abandoned on Jonstone's desk. His master was casually taking a pinch of snuff.

Mother of God, doesn't the man know he holds my fate in his hands? I can't take much more. Does he like my work – or hate the truth?

Daniel relived his artistic dilemma – how to remain true to the little girl's imperfections while touching the father's heart. Victoria was the Jonstones' sole surviving child; the family graveyard held three stillborn sons. Pale and sickly with spindly limbs, her gentle blue eyes were her best feature. Daniel had tried to capture her innocence by posing her with a Persian kitten, but he continued to agonise over his decision to avoid false chocolate-box prettiness. Would Jonstone's artistic judgement be stronger than parental pride? Daniel stiffened when at last his master beckoned him to enter through the French windows.

‘It is clear your portrait of that Currency Lad was no accident. Well done, Browne. You've captured Victoria's sweetness of spirit. The face and hands are very fine. The kitten's so alive it looks ready to spring from the canvas. I feel sure my lady wife will be pleased.'

Daniel stammered his thanks.

Jonstone thoughtfully stroked his beard. ‘I shall pay you something, but also grant you a favour. Perhaps assign you to some more congenial form of work?'

Daniel tried to dredge up enough courage to make the request that the Devil Himself had repeatedly vetoed for months past. If this gamble failed Daniel faced his greatest fear. The lash.