Driftwood (10 page)

‘Get up, boy!' roared Hocking, pulling a ring of keys from his belt before once again glaring at the boy. The boy cried out his innocence, but Hocking ignored his protests, instead bellowing over the top of him. ‘How can you claim innocence when you were discovered with Barrington's shotgun in your possession, and his horse and carriage at your control? Do you think I'm bloody stupid? Now, shut up! I don't want to listen to your wailing any more!'

The commotion drew people from their houses and shops and a crowd began to gather. The boy rose shakily to his feet, blood dripping from his nose, fear making his eyes bulge from his skull. Hocking unlocked the cuffs, and then spun the boy around to face him, motioning to one of his officers to come forward. The officer held out a rifle and Hocking snatched it from him, and then held it out to the boy. ‘Here, take your gun, and never come back to Goldbury again. If I see you within thirty miles of this place I will shoot you dead! Understand?'

The boy looked down at the gun in Hocking's hands and then up at Hocking, clearly unsure of what to do.

‘Are you a dimwit? You have three seconds to make your decision, boy!' Hocking spat through clenched teeth, his spittle hitting the boy in the face.

The boy grabbed the gun and turned, running for his life. Anne held her breath — she knew what was coming. There was no way in hell Hocking was going to let the boy get away. She wanted to scream out, to run and sweep him into her arms to protect him. But it was too late.

‘Hey, Harold! You forgot something,' called Hocking.

Harold turned and Hocking opened fire, a bullet to the chest knocking the boy backwards through the air. He landed on the ground, spluttering as blood seeped from his mouth, and then he was gone. Anne wept quietly as she turned her face, not able to observe any more.

Hocking turned to the wide-eyed crowd, his voice thunderous. ‘You all witnessed that. The boy drew first and his rifle was loaded. It was self-defence. That'll teach the little bastard for killing Ronald Barrington! Now let this be a lesson to all of you! I am the law in this town, and if you cross me, I won't hesitate to sentence you by my own hand. Gone are the days of a fair trial — I am above and beyond the laws that govern Goldsbury!' Turning, Hocking waved his pistol at his fellow officers. ‘Now, you lot. I want you to head out to the mining camps and check licences. Anyone without one will have their tents burnt down and their belongings confiscated. I'm going to show this town who's running the show. I'm tired of being walked all over. No more leniency, for anyone!'

The officers stared in shock, not accustomed to Hocking taking the law to such measures. He spat in their direction then fired his gun into the air, his face contorted in utter fury. ‘Go!
Now!
‘

Struggling to hold herself together, Anne hung her head and shuffled down the street towards the doctor's house, her hand clutching her chest as if to stop her heart crashing out of it. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Hocking running after her, and he caught her up in seconds. He stopped in front of her, blocking her path. Anne stood motionless, staring into the distance, not wanting to look into his evil eyes again, her heart thumping wildly. He leant into her ear, his breath making her hairs stand on end.

‘I hope I ravished you at the right time, Anne Willows. For right now you may be carrying our offspring. And let's hope it's a boy or I'll have to drown it. Girls are worthless to me. They can't carry on my name.'

Furious, Anne turned to face him, the words he spoke too potent to ignore. ‘You wretched man. I hope you rot in hell!' She stepped away from him, her legs like jelly and her feet feeling as though they were made of lead, but she focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Instinctively, protectively, her hands went to her belly. And then everything made perfect sense.

2012 — Far North Queensland

‘Rising Sun' boomed from the speakers, Jimmy Barnes' throaty drawl unmistakable, as the growing crowd ambled from the pub's brightly lit dining room through to the decorated area, their friendly conversations making it almost impossible for Taylor to decipher the drink orders across the long timber bar.

‘Hey, mate,' hollered Jasmine as she scooted behind Taylor, grappling with a huge bag of ice before attempting to tip it into a massive esky, her six-month baby bump making it slightly more difficult than usual.

Taylor rushed to help her. ‘G'day, Jaz. You shouldn't be lifting heavy stuff like this.' She protectively waggled a finger. ‘Ask me to do it next time.'

Jasmine huffed. ‘Shit, you're beginning to sound like Wes. I may be starting to look like a beached whale but I'm not incapacitated.'

Taylor tipped the bag, and some of the ice that missed the bucket landed on her boots. ‘Well, you should learn to listen to your hubby. Sometimes he might be right, you know.'

Jasmine waved the suggestion away. ‘Pfft, that'll be the day.'

Taylor couldn't help but laugh at Jasmine's stubborn independence, as it was similar to her own. ‘You ready for a big night?'

‘You betcha! I love getting to catch up with everyone.' Jasmine curled her bottom lip in mock dismay. ‘Even though I'm working.'

‘I know, tell me about it. All work and no play, as they say.'

‘You got that right, Tay. I can man the bar now if you want to clear up a bit, before we run out of clean glasses.'

‘Sure thing, Jaz.' Grabbing a tray, Taylor scurried out from behind the bar, saying g'day to the faces she knew and enjoying being quickly introduced to the ones she didn't.

Beryl Harrison, her mop of purple curls styled to perfection, and with matching thick purple glasses perched on her nose, stood on tippy-toes and kissed Taylor's cheek. ‘Night, love.'

‘Oh, bugger, are you off, Beryl? I was hoping to have a boogie with you on the dance floor later on,' said Taylor, motioning to where a small bunch of people were already boot scooting beneath flashing lights and a big glittering disco ball.

Beryl tugged her handbag over her shoulder, chortling. ‘Ahh, I'm a bit old for that malarkey now, dear. After decades on my feet at the post office, my old legs don't have the life in them that they used to.' Beryl touched her heart. ‘Even though the old ticker's still as fit as a fiddle.' She tapped her watch to indicate it was time to go home to her husband, Walter, who was perched on his favourite stool at the bar. He promptly followed orders and skolled his freshly poured schooner.

Taylor stifled a giggle. She could certainly see that Beryl wore the pants in the relationship. She returned a kiss to Beryl's wrinkled cheek. ‘Night, then. Catch you during the week.'

When Taylor had a second free from serving behind the bar, she would scan the sea of faces, searching only for one. It was nearing nine o'clock and she still hadn't spotted him, and part of her was disheartened by the thought he may have decided not to show up. She caught Jasmine's eye, mouthing she needed the toilet, before dashing off down the corridor.

As Taylor made her way back to the bar, a bulky hand grabbed her shoulder. She spun round to find Cooper's handsome face smiling back at her. ‘Hi, Taylor, how goes it?'

Taylor smiled, genuinely happy to see him. Cooper was a good bloke, hardworking and funny. ‘Great, but busy, I can't chat now, but I finish around ten. So, if you're still about, I'll have a drink with you then.'

Cooper raised his beer. ‘With an offer like that, I sure will be.'

‘Good. Your shout,' she said, patting him on the back.

Ducking back behind the bar and taking another order for several beers, Taylor spotted Jay over near the jukebox. He stood side-on, beer raised to his lips, a small huddle of blokes around him laughing and chatting. He wore a navy blue button-up dress shirt and butt-hugging jeans and she found herself unable to look away. As if sensing her, he turned, his chocolate-brown eyes coming to rest on hers. He smiled confidently as he tipped his head in a gesture of hello, sending her heart fluttering like a kite in the wind. She grinned back coyly, embarrassed he'd just caught her perving at him.

Silently cursing herself while grabbing three clean schooners from the tray, Taylor began pulling the tap, filling each glass with the amber liquid, the right amount of froth on top. Col gave her the thumbs up and she allowed herself a smug smile — after weeks of practice she was finally pouring the perfect beer. Dodging Jasmine, she clutched the three glasses and passed them across to the unknown face, gracing the middle-aged man with a friendly smile that he returned. Ready to move on to the next patiently waiting partygoer she faltered, a feeling of déjà vu washing over her. She glanced back at the man as he walked away, his swagger that of one who had lived in the saddle. He was obviously a stockman but where she recognised him from, she didn't know. Had she already met him briefly? It was possible; she had been introduced to a lot of people these past few weeks. She watched as he passed a beer to Jay, her gaze lingering once again on Jay's well-proportioned physique.

‘Yoohoo, Earth to Taylor,' said Zoe, snapping her long, red fingernails in front of Taylor's face.

Taylor blinked, pulling her eyes from Jay. ‘Oh, shit, sorry, Zoe, miles away. What can I get you, mate? Or do you want to come round and get the drinks yourself ?'

‘Don't be stupid, that's your job,' said Zoe half-jokingly, turning to look at where Taylor had been staring. Her smile faltered for a split second, Taylor thought, but she couldn't be sure. Zoe twisted back, pointing accusingly. ‘Aha! Caught ya! You do like Jay. Silly girl. I told you he's trouble.'

‘Nope. Was actually looking at Cooper,' replied Taylor, chuffed with her quick thinking as she spotted Cooper standing directly behind Jay.

Raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow, Zoe leant further across the bar, dropping her voice a few notches. ‘So, is something going on between you and Cooper I should know about?'

Taylor blew air through her lips like a horse. ‘Nah, but he does keep harassing me for a date.'

Zoe squealed, clapping her hands. ‘Go for it, Taylor. He's quite a catch.'

‘Really? I thought you said there was no talent around here.'

‘Stupid me,' said Zoe, rolling her eyes. ‘I forgot all about Cooper. He's more like a cousin to me, seeing I've known his family all my life, so I don't even consider him,' she hooked the air with her fingers, ‘. . . boyfriend material.'

‘Okay, well, then, I'll take that on board,' said Taylor, nodding her head to Jasmine as Jasmine gave her a harried look.

Taylor mouthed ‘sorry' then turned back to Zoe. ‘Do you mind getting your own drinks, Zoe? We're a little snowed under at the moment.'

Zoe pouted as she ran her hands down her skin-tight dress. ‘Oh, I don't want to get my good dress dirty. I only need two rum and Cokes. It'll only take you a sec. Come on, Taylor, be a sport and grab them for me.'

Taylor smiled, tight-lipped. She was beginning to see what Jay meant when he called Zoe a spoilt little brat. The girl had a tendency to flaunt the fact she was the publican's daughter, expecting others to run around after her. It was beginning to get on Taylor's nerves.

Two hours later, her feet aching and lower back throbbing, Taylor rinsed the last of the dirty glasses then placed them in the dishwasher. The crowd had diminished to a more manageable number, as most of the older twenty-first attendees had headed home to the comfort of their beds. The small mob that were left were still a rowdy bunch, singing out of tune to Garth Brooks ‘Papa Loved Mama'.

Faith sighed wearily beside her. ‘Phew, talk about being flat out, my feet are killing me. I'm glad the rush is over.' She placed her hand on Taylor's arm. ‘You've worked hard tonight, thanks, sweetheart. You can finish up now if you like.'

Taylor glanced at the clock above the sink. Ten-fifteen. ‘Only if you're sure you and Col will be right.'

‘Course we are, love. And Jasmine's happy to stay on until midnight. She needs the money, with the baby coming. I'll just make sure she does the light duties for closing up, like counting the cash and wiping down tables. Col's not too pleased about working an entire hour past his normal closing time, though, but I told the old bugger to toughen up.' Faith nudged Taylor then thumbed over her shoulder. ‘Go on; go have a few knock-off drinks with your mates. And I reckon there's someone out there eager for you to finish up so he can buy you a drink.'

Taylor laughed. ‘Cooper? Yeah. He's been hassling me for weeks to have a drink with him.'

‘Well, why not, he's a good-looking bloke,' said Faith, smiling cheekily while drying her hands on a tea-towel. ‘Oh, and one more thing, before you have a drink, Col wanted to know if you'd like to sing a few tunes? We still haven't heard you sing, and we're
dying
to.'

Taylor's eyes lit up, excitement and fear tumbling in her stomach. ‘Sing? Me? Now? Um . . .'

‘Why the heck not? It's the perfect opportunity to showcase your talents. You got a wonderful crowd who'd be more than pleased to have some live entertainment. We don't get much of it around here.'

Taylor hesitated and Faith gave her a friendly shove. ‘Go on love! You can do it!'

Taylor threw her hands up in the air. ‘Okay, okay! Let me go freshen up and grab my guitar. I'll be back in fifteen minutes or so.'

Faith gave her a squishy hug then pulled back, beaming. ‘Thatta girl!'

Taylor skidded to a halt at the doorway. ‘Can you ask Col to make sure the stage lights are as dim as they'll go? It helps with the nerves.'

Faith smiled. ‘Will do, love.'

Refreshed and wearing a long, fitted, bohemian-style dress, her strawberry ringlets cascading freely down her back and her favourite tan and diamante Ariat boots twinkling in the dimmed spotlight, Taylor sat cross-legged on the bar stool Faith had placed on stage. Within seconds the crowd had hushed, the only noises those of excited whispers or encouraging hoots and whistles as the audience waited for her to begin.