To Love Anew (29 page)

“We’re gonna have to lead the horses,” Gavin said, pulling to a stop and dismounting. John and Jack did the same. The tracker kept moving. There was no rest.

They pushed their way through heavy underbrush. Stubby branches with barbed leaves caught at their skin and clothes.

As they moved along a narrow ridge with a deep crevasse falling away below them, Jack said, “Keep an eye out for snakes. They’ll get ye before ye know what happened.”

John eyed the ravine and thought snakes were the least of his worries. He wondered how Henry had made it this far. The man had no stamina or courage.

The three men stopped. John drank from his canteen and then asked Gavin, “Is the tracker sure Henry came this way? I can’t see him getting this far, not in this kind of terrain.”

“He’s a fine reputation,” Gavin said, watching the black man move ahead easily. “We can’t afford to lose him.”

Gavin moved on, rocks and dirt skittering down the cliff side.

“I’m not so sure this was a good idea,” Jack said. “Maybe we ought t’ go back.” He wiped sweat from his face. “Henry’s gonna die out ’ere anyway.”

John knew Jack spoke the truth. It made sense to stop and let Henry simply destroy himself. But he wanted to face him, accuse him, and then turn him over to the authorities. “He couldn’t have gone much farther,” he said. “He’s never been a good rider, and this kind of country will do him in. He can’t be moving very fast. We’re probably close.”

Silently, the men followed the tracker inland and away from the ravine. Abruptly the Aborigine stopped. He squatted and motioned for the men to remain out of sight.

“He’s found something,” Gavin whispered, peering ahead.

John couldn’t see anything. He glanced at the setting sun and hoped they’d found his cousin. They couldn’t go much farther before the night turned black.

The Aborigine motioned them to move forward. The three joined him and peered around a eucalypt. There, sitting in the dusk, was Henry. He’d found a small clearing and had started a fire. Resting his back against a log, he picked sticks and leaves from his clothing and then used a knife to dig slivers out of his hands. A pistol rested on his lap.

“We found him,” John whispered, feeling exhilaration. He nodded his thanks at the tracker. The black man moved back and rested against the bare trunk of a grass tree.

“What should we do now?” Jack asked quietly.

“We ought to go in there and arrest him.” Gavin brandished his musket.

Jack’s eyes widened. “What about the pistol? He might shoot us.”

Gavin scowled at Jack. “He’s one man. We’re three.”

“Let’s wait until dark,” John suggested. “That way he won’t see us until we want him to.”

The three hunkered down and waited for the last of the light to withdraw. John kept an eye on the tracker, wondering if he might go off into the night and leave them. He leaned close to Gavin and whispered, “Can we trust the black to stay with us?”

“Like I said, he’s a good man. I’ve known him awhile. No worries there.” Gavin walked back to his horse and lifted a length of rope from around the saddle horn. Holding it up, he said, “We’ll likely need this.”

“I could use a pistol,” John said.

Gavin gaped at him. “Right. I forgot you’re a prisoner.” He grabbed a pistol out of his holster. “I’ll say nothing ’bout this.” As it got darker, they watched Henry nervously eye the brush around him and continue to add wood to the fire. He took something out of his saddlebag and sat back to eat it.

“He’ll manage to set the whole place ablaze if he’s not careful,” Jack whispered.

Remaining out of sight, John stood and stretched his legs. “How’s he look to you?”

“Tired,” Gavin said with a smile.

“Ought to be easy,” Jack said.

“I’d say it’s time to surprise him then, eh? What do you say?” John savored the idea of the confrontation. He’d dreamed of it. His hand on the pistol, he approached. Jack and Gavin followed, muskets ready.

As they moved closer, Henry heard them. He picked up his pistol. “Who is it? I’ll shoot!” He stood and waved the gun about.

“Not a bright idea,” John said, stepping out of the shadows. “There are three of us and only one of you.” He smiled.

Pointing his pistol at John, then Gavin and then Jack, Henry’s hand shook. “What are you doing here?”

“We come to talk to ye,” Jack said, his voice hard.

John smiled. “You got yourself caught this time, Henry.”

“Caught? What do you mean? I’m just on my way north. Nothing wrong with that.”

“What fool would try making the trip overland? There’s ships that can take you. Unless you were in a hurry.” Gavin grinned.

John stepped closer. “We went by your office. Looks like you left in a rush.”

Henry didn’t respond.

“You on your way out of town with someone else’s money perchance? Figuring on setting up another swindle farther north?”

“I’ve business in Newcastle.”

“That would explain the condition of your office?”

“My office? I don’t know anything about that.”

John fingered the pistol. “Perhaps you ought to head back to Port Jackson, then, so you can see the damage done by the hoodlums who must have broke in. You’ll need to tend to it.”

“I’ll see to it when I’ve completed my business.”

“You’ve business to attend to in Port Jackson.” John stepped closer to Henry. “You can die here or you can come with us.”

“I’m going nowhere with you.” He brandished his firearm.

His pistol trained on Henry, Jack edged around behind him. “Don’t figure ye want a brawl, now do ye?”

Henry’s eyes narrowed as he looked from one man to the other, then he settled on John. “You’re the cause of this.”

“No. I’d say you’re the culprit.” He glanced at the men with him. “Now, would you like to argue or will you let us truss you up nicely?”

Gavin pulled himself up to his full height and grasped the rope he had draped over his shoulder. “I can assure you that you don’t want to fight us.”

Henry looked about like a cornered animal. He took a step toward the bush, then seemingly realizing the futility of any escape plan, he dropped his arms and his gun and held out his hands. “This isn’t the end of it.”

“That’s right, it’s not.” Gavin tied his hands, pulling it tight with a jerk and then knotting it. Henry winced. “You’ll be paying me every farthing you owe.”

“I don’t owe you a copper.” Sweat on Henry’s face glistened in the firelight. “Take up your complaint with the blokes who got your shipment.”

“And who might they be?”

Henry hesitated and then said, “I don’t keep all that in my head. I’d have to look at the records.” Sweat trailed into his eyes. He looked from one man to the other and finally settled his gaze on Gavin. “Your goods are safe. And so is your money.”

“Fine then,” Gavin said. “Good thing we came along to see you back to Port Jackson safely.” He smirked.

A broken man, Henry Hodgsson stood before the magistrate. John tried to relax the muscles in his shoulders. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. He’d dreamed of the day Henry paid for his crimes. He deserved a harsh sentence. Not only had he destroyed John’s life, but he’d deceived and stolen from several New South Wales businessmen, freeing them of a goodly sum. Gavin had retrieved most of his funds, but the shipment was never returned.

The judge glared at Henry. John had always thought his cousin to be of small stature, and now with his shoulders hunched forward and his body trembling, he seemed shriveled and was clearly no longer a menace.

“Henry Hodgsson, for your crimes you shall spend fourteen years hard labor in Newcastle Prison.”

Henry sniveled. “Please. Have mercy on me.”

“You’ve shown no mercy and none will be given,” the judge said with finality.

Cheers broke out from several who’d been cheated and had shown up to witness Henry’s hearing.

Henry was dragged from the courtroom.

John stood in place for a long while. Rather than feeling satisfaction, he was aware only of the bleakness of a life lost. Finally, he walked out. It was time to go home.

While John traveled back to the Atherton farm, his mind pondered something Hannah had once said. She’d quoted Scripture from the book of Romans.
“Beloved, avenge not yourselves,
but rather give place to wrath; for it is written, Vengeance
is mine, I will repay, says the Lord. Therefore if your enemy
hungers, feed him; If he thirsts, give him a drink; for in so doing
you will heap coals of fire on his head. Do not be overcome by
evil, but overcome evil with good.”

He knew the verses, but they’d never meant much to him before. Now in light of what had happened, he realized vengeance provided no peace. What he’d wanted and waited for so long offered only emptiness.

Forgiveness is good for the soul,
Hannah had told him.

But how do I forgive a man who has stolen my life?
Regretfully John knew he’d attained nothing by Henry’s punishment. He still couldn’t forgive him for what he’d done.
There’s nothing
more I can do
, John decided.
I give it to you, Lord.

John left it at that. Thinking on it would do little good. Besides, he was weary—more so than he could remember. All he wanted now was sleep.

When he rode into the yard, Mr. Atherton stepped out of the house to greet him.
Perhaps to send me back to prison
, he thought.
Deservedly so. I let him and everyone else down.
When word got out that John and Henry were related, a handful of businessmen who’d lost money and goods had wanted him returned to Port Jackson. However, they had no say. It was up to Mr. Atherton.

“Evening, John,” Mr. Atherton said, walking up to him.

“Good evening.” John slid off his horse.

“What was the outcome of the trial?”

“Henry’s going to prison.” John’s hands were sweating. He moved the reins to one hand and wiped the palm of the other on his breeches. “Only a small portion of the moneys were recovered. Most the men who did business with him were not compensated.”

Mr. Atherton nodded. “Too bad. But I’m glad Hodgsson will pay for his crimes.” He clapped John on the back. “I owe you a debt of gratitude. If not for you, my timber and my money would have been lost.”

“If I’d told you straightaway, you would have stopped doing business with Henry as soon as I knew who the proprietor was. And I wanted to catch him. I needed revenge.”

“In similar circumstances I might have done the same.”

“No. You wouldn’t. You’re an honorable man.”

“And so are you.” Mr. Atherton patted John’s horse. “Henry took a lot from you.”

“Right you are there.” John loosened his hold on the reins. “I ought to put the horse away.”

“Before you go, I have something for you.” Mr. Atherton reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a document. Handing it to John, he said, “Your papers. You’re a free man.”

John stared at the document in Mr. Atherton’s hand. “You’re freeing me?” John knew he didn’t deserve to be rewarded. It had been his need for revenge that had brought trouble on Mr. Atherton. “But I’ve a life sentence.”

“Not anymore. You’ve been pardoned.” He smiled. “You’re a fine man, John, and don’t deserve to be imprisoned. The King’s orders were unjust.” He grasped John’s shoulder. “You’ve earned your freedom.”

John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Thank you,” he stammered. “I don’t know what else to say.”

Mr. Atherton smiled. “Just the look on your face says it all.” “What do I do now?”

“To begin with, you might want to talk to Hannah.” He tipped his hat and walked toward the main house.

24

John finished his first cup of coffee and refilled the tin. It was early and the rest of the men in the bunkhouse were still sleeping. After cooling down the horse and putting it away the previous evening, it had been too late to speak to Hannah. Even Perry had gone to bed. He’d told no one about his new freedom.

Wishing there were someone he could share his good news with, John had gone to bed thinking about all it would mean to him. He didn’t sleep; instead, his mind wound and rewound Mr. Atherton’s words. Hands clasped behind his head, he’d stared at the bunk above his and considered what to do. He was free to make his own choices. After months of captivity and believing freedom would never be his, the reality was almost too much to grasp.

Sipping the coffee, he stepped onto the front porch and quietly closed the door behind him. Heated morning air rose like a mist in the dim light. A hush lay over the earth; even the cicadas were quiet. He ambled down the steps and sat on the bottom one.

A loud squawk emanated from the forest and then others joined in. A cow needing to be milked mooed her distress. Patrick moved toward the barn. He nodded at John as he passed.

Lifting a hand in greeting, John wanted to shout, “I’m free!” Instead, he silently watched the man disappear inside the barn.
Perry and Hannah ought to be the first to know.

The door creaked open and Perry stepped onto the porch. He scrubbed his face with one hand and squinted at the light beyond the trees. “Coffee smells good,” he said, hitching up his pants.

“Tastes a bit rough, but it’ll wake you up.” John nodded toward the inside of the bunkhouse. “There’s some cooked.” He smiled.

“What ye grinning ’bout so early?” Perry asked as he moved off the porch and stepped around to the side of the shack to relieve himself.

“There’s a dunny not ten paces from where you’re standing,” John said.

“This is easier and smells better.” Perry chuckled and walked back to the porch. Leaning against the railing, he asked, “Why ye up so bloomin’ early? Ye came in late.”

“Just after dark.” John rested his forearms on his thighs and thought about how best to share his news. Should he just blurt it out or work up to it?

“So, how’d the trial go? Did Henry get what he deserved?”

“Fourteen years at Newcastle.”

“Well then, that ought to set him back a bit.” Perry grinned.

John took another sip from his coffee. “Mr. Atherton said he’s grateful for my part in Henry’s arrest and for keeping his goods and money intact.”