Ironbark (36 page)

‘Divorce you? What madness is this?' Gem yelled as he pushed her aside. ‘So the truth is out! You're already hot to marry some
gaujo
fool?'

‘No! Gem, I want you more than anything in the world. Please try to forgive me, but if you
can't
, then set me free from the promise I swore as a child to love you unto death.' She cried out in desperation, lying at his feet. ‘Love me. Hate me. But I beg you, just lay with me tonight, my Gem.'

Gem's anger suddenly cooled. ‘You clever little bitch. Here I am on the run from the traps. I risk my life to spend a single night with you, knowing that informer Evans is breathing down my neck. And what do I get? Lies and betrayal – and this
gaujo
brat!'

He gestured towards the cot where Gabriel was cheerfully clapping his hands and singing in a bid to attract Gem's attention.

Gem punched his fist through the front door that had hung on one broken hinge since his entrance. Then he faced Keziah and flashed his familiar smile that always made her heart leap.

‘The day we met you were five years old. Your father, Gabriel, visited our camp to show off his adored, blue-eyed
posh rat
. Your smile was
pure sunshine; innocent yet seductive.' Gem examined his hand as if discovering it for the first time. ‘You placed your hand in mine. From that very moment you held my heart in the palm of your hand.'

Keziah cried out at the power of that shared memory. ‘I loved you from that moment too, Gem. You know I did!'

‘My mother took one look at you and ran to my father. She warned him that I must have a true Romani wife because “Whores only breed whores”.'

Keziah really did want to die. Now her mother's shame compounded her own.

Gem's voice grew soft. ‘My gift to you, Keziah, is this.' He hissed Patronella's darkest curse – a spell so potent Keziah needed two lifetimes to escape its vengeance.

As he galloped away, Keziah called out his name in a broken cry, powerless to hold him. How could her life have any meaning without Gem at the heart of it?

Her sobs became so frenzied that they frightened little Gabriel into adding his terrified cries to her own. With her face red and swollen from crying, Keziah carried him out onto the veranda to calm him in the cool night air.

‘There, there, it's all right now, my little Rom. Who would believe you are the man who wrecked my marriage?' She kissed the little hand that patted her face, comforting her. ‘Perhaps
you
are man enough to forgive me? When I said I didn't want you before you were born, it was true, but I didn't
know
you then! You are the world to me, Gabriel.'

She sat him in her lap and clapped his hands. ‘I don't know how to solve this terrible mess but if I died tomorrow, I'd swear the truth on my deathbed. I love Gem with my whole heart. But if he cannot accept you, I could never, never give you up. You are
the one thing in my life that really makes sense
!'

As she carried him inside the cottage she tried but failed to close the broken door behind her.

• • •

In the darkness outside Keziah's cottage Jake swore under his breath as he watched the retreating figure of the fugitive Gypsy Gem Smith gallop over the horizon.
Jesus wept! What do I do now?

He had ridden up to pay Keziah a visit but halted at the sight of the stallion tethered in the shadows. Should he stay or should he go? He had overheard the tail end of Gem's enraged fight but the touching scene of Keziah comforting little Gabriel had been enough for him to piece together the story. Jake was honest enough to know his feelings were biased. Keziah was his mate, but if he stood in Gem's shoes, could he forgive his wife for bearing a babe to another man while he was in prison?

In one sense, Jake realised he
was
standing in Gem's shoes.
What the hell would I do if Jenny pleaded her love for me like Keziah did to Gem?

There was no answer. It was growing dark so he decided it was time to take action. He rode off to Ironbark Farm's assigned men's quarters. When the door was opened by Sholto, the huge tattooed Glaswegian convict looked ready to throttle him.

‘Miss Plews has a problem, mate, I need your help.' Jake offered the man his tobacco pouch. Mollified, Sholto took it and led him to the toolshed.

On his return to Keziah's cottage, Jake propped casually against the doorframe. ‘Just passing, mate. Noticed your front door's given up the ghost.'

Without another word he set to with the tools and soon had her door in working order.
If only her love life was as easy to fix.

‘Kind of you, Jake,' Keziah sniffed. ‘I'll fix you something to eat.'

Jake eyed her as she poured tea. Some women, like Jenny, looked heartbreakingly pretty when they cried. Not Keziah. Her eyes were bloodshot from howling. Jake had seen prize fighters who looked more attractive after thirteen rounds.

He folded his hands behind his head and settled back in his chair with a show of confidence. He decided to play his cards close to his
chest and pretend he hadn't been witness to Gem's violent exit.

‘All right, mate. Out with it. What's up?'

‘You can't fix the mess I'm in, Jake. Not this time. No one can.'

‘You
reckon
?' he said. ‘Try me.'

As Jake drove his battered wagon towards Feagan's General Store his mind was only half tuned to the world around him. Summer seemed unwilling to end and the day promised to deliver the sticky heat that Jake knew gave a bloke saddle rash if he wasn't too careful.

Early that morning Jake had packed in the false bottom of his wagon the expensive new saddle Terence Ogden had asked him to choose for his favourite thoroughbred, Jupiter's Darling, and the fowling pieces and cartridges the landholder had ordered. All he needed now was to fill up the cart with bales of stockfeed to act as camouflage in the event he was bailed up.

As always he kept a sharp eye out for bushrangers. The traps were fighting a losing battle to maintain law and order. The army of bolters who'd taken up arms grew by the week.

But as alert for trouble as he was, he continued to mull over the painful showdown he'd witnessed between Gem and Keziah the previous week. He knew her heart still belonged to Gem. So what was the strength of her surprising revelation of her marriage proposal? And how on earth had she ever met Daniel Browne? Jake had chatted with the artist whenever he had occasion to pass Gideon Park. Although Daniel looked more haggard each visit, he always seemed pleased to see Jake, talked about his paintings and asked for news of the outside world. How odd that Daniel had never even mentioned Keziah or marriage.

Jake was damned sure Keziah hadn't told him the full story behind Daniel's wooing. But how could he blame her? She was shattered by Gem's rejection. Good women were devious, even the best of them.
That woman gets herself into one bloody mess after another. She's desperate to find Gem and sort things out, which is a bit of a problem what with
Gypsy Gem Smith's name on the traps' Wanted Dead or Alive posters.

Jake felt discomforted by the way Kez always looked at him. Like he was one of King Arthur's knights who could ride off on Horatio, solve her problem and give her a happy ending.

‘That's what happens when a woman saves your life, Horatio. You're stuck with being in her debt.'

The thought of tomorrow's date depressed him. A painful anniversary – Pearl's sixth birthday and he wasn't an inch closer to finding her. Would he even be able to recognise her if he passed her in the street?

In the general store Jake found Feagan was as usual busy dispensing news as he wrapped parcels.

‘What's the world coming to? We now have two bushrangers who claim they are One Eye. Jabber Jabber has escaped from custody yet again. And that Irish scoundrel Paddy Corcoran confessed to violating an overseer's wife.'

Jake picked up his cue. ‘Any news of The Gypsy's gang?'

‘Sergeant Kenwood told me The Gypsy ransacked two homesteads this week, not ten miles from where we stand.' Feagan turned a tobacco-stained smile towards Jake. ‘But what can you expect? The Gypsies have been thieves since God was in his cradle.'

Jake made no comment. Feagan was enthused by the large order Jake had placed on behalf of Terence Ogden.

‘Those big landowners sure live in style. I hear tell Ogden's staging a fox hunt for some sporting English gentlemen just off the boat. 'Roos in place of foxes. Need more ammunition?'

Feagan's wink was conspiratorial. Jake knew his answer would be common knowledge all over Bolthole Valley by midday, and hopefully would find its way to a bushranger's ears.

‘No. Never carry arms or ammo. Just whisky. Plenty of room to load my wagon with this horse feed.'

At The Shanty with No Name Jake bought two bottles of whisky and positioned them to act as a decoy to protect the hidden stash of
ammunition whenever the flap of the wagon's tarpaulin was raised. If Feagan's information was accurate, Gem was likely to be holed up close at hand. Jake had proved the bushrangers' grapevine effective in the past to make contact. The trick lay in managing to get bailed up by a decent bushranger who could be relied on to pass his message to Gem.

He didn't have long to wait. It was a muggy day made worse by the maddening attention of mosquitoes that bred in the nearby swamp. Jake had no sooner crossed the single-arch stone bridge than he heard the familiar cry, ‘Bail up! Your money or your life!'

‘Jesus, here we go again, Horatio!' Jake moved his wagon to the side of the road and looked at the young assailant. Taffy Owens was obviously so new to the game his legs twitched like a kid who needs to take a pee, and his firearms belonged in a museum.

‘Mind if I stop for a smoke?' Jake asked politely. ‘Been a real bugger of a day.'

‘I'd never bail
you
up, Jake,' Taffy apologised. ‘You being a mate of Jabber Jabber and The Gypsy. Enjoy your smoko before you shoot off.'

Jake glanced down the empty road. ‘Yeah, wouldn't want to hold up the traffic. I'm on my way to deliver a load of feed to Ogden Park. I'll look the other way while you help yourself to the whisky in the back.'

‘Thanks, mate. I'm as dry as a dead sheep.'

Jake's question was casual. ‘Can you get a message to my mate, Gem Smith?'

Taffy nodded, loath to pause from swigging the whisky.

‘Gem claims he was a bare-knuckle champ at Home. Tell him twenty pounds says I can beat him, but we need to have a yarn first. I'll be camped by Mutmutbilly swamp.'

‘He'll get your message before sundown,' Taffy promised.

• • •

As the sinking sun stained the sky orange behind the hills, Jake stretched out on his swag beside his campfire. His hat adorned
with a galah feather covered his face to discourage the mosquitoes. He'd been told the Aboriginal double use of ‘mut' indicated a double dose of mosquitoes in the swampy billabong.
Jesus wept. They weren't half joking.

At the sound of a lone rider's approach Jake feigned sleep but kept his left hand close to his hidden pistol.

The voice behind him was dark and silky. ‘So you fancy you can lick me, eh pal?'

Jake opened one eye. ‘I reckon all the fellas I beat have good reason to remember me.'

Gem laughed and dismounted. From the corner of his eye Jake saw a flash of his gold earring. The gold coins on Gem's waistcoat, the silver butt of his pistols and his elaborate silver belt proved the rumours. The Gypsy
did
pack more gold and silver than the Bank of England.

Jake casually laid out the fresh loaf of bread he'd bought in Bolthole, figuring that Gem must be sick of eating damper and biscuits laced with weevils. With a flourish he produced a bottle of red wine with a flash label.

‘A new Hunter Valley wine. Could you go a drink?' Jake took care to offer Gem the pannikin with his right hand. He knew Gem drank red wine. He had seen Keziah tip a small quantity onto the earth, as token offering to her gods, before she drank.

Gem did the same thing then savoured the wine. ‘This ain't shanty grog. A fine drop.'

‘Not every day I do a deal with a boxer who's near good enough to be in my class.'

Gem laughed. ‘I can whip you in two rounds. What makes you keen to die young?'

‘A proposition. If you're as good as you claim you won't be able to resist it.'

‘What's the deal?'

‘I know the risk I'm running in telling you this. You're a bit of a
legend round here. Everyone knows Gypsy Gem Smith has a wild temper.'

Gem puffed up with pride, encouraging Jake to continue. He handed him the bread.

‘If I tell you, do you guarantee you won't give me a bullet sandwich?'

Gem's laughter rent the air as he slapped Jake on the back. ‘Well, if you aren't a right cheeky bugger! I like your style. You have my word I won't shoot you.'

‘It's a matter of a lady's honour. Nah! Not
my
woman! Just a friend in need.'

Gem's hand beckoned for Jake to provide her name. Jake hesitated.

‘She's hiding from the law. A woman you and I both know – Keziah Stanley.'

Gem sprang to his feet in a flash. He ranted half in Romani, half in English laced with a bit of gaol cant, but there was no indication that he intended to draw a pistol.

Jake waited for Gem to calm down before he asked, ‘Does this mean you're going to turn your back on twenty pounds?'

‘Why the hell do you want to fight for her? She's a whore and a whore's daughter!'

‘So what do
you
care?'

‘Because she's
my
whore.'

‘I reckon you do want her!' said Jake. ‘Go tell
her
that. The woman's crazy about you.'