Driftwood (3 page)

Jay hung his head, angry and ashamed for letting Frank down. Again. This man was like an uncle to him. ‘I'm sorry. I'll try harder to curb my temper from now on. Promise.'

Frank pushed himself up, the legs of the chair scraping against the worn lino floor. ‘Please don't give some of the old residents in Driftwood any more reasons to gossip. Remember, you have no control over what's happened in years gone by, but you
do
have control over your future. Yes, your life has had more downs then ups these past few years, but you can get through all of it and come out on top in the end. You're a good man, Jay. Why not show the townspeople
that
instead of giving them the wrong impression.'

Jay nodded solemnly, staring at the floor. ‘I'll try, I
really
will.' He glanced up at Frank, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. ‘But, in actual fact, I don't care what people think. I am who I am. Besides, I have nothing to prove — to any bastard.' Jay reclined, hands fastened behind his head, determination creasing his brow.

Frank whistled through his teeth as he placed his hands on the table, smiling for the very first time that night. ‘With that glint in your eye, you remind me so much of your father right now. You are definitely your father's son, so alike in everything you do. ‘ Frank picked up his cup and swigged the last of the coffee. ‘Anyhow, I'd better get back to it, loads of paperwork to do. Do you need a lift home? I can get one of the ambulance blokes to drive you back.'

‘Nah, I only had a couple of beers at the pub and that was, um.' Jay looked at his watch, eyebrows raised. ‘Shit! Three hours ago. I can't believe it's nearly ten-thirty. I've got to be up in less than six hours to start it all over again. I have cattle to load onto the truck before first light, so they get to the saleyards in time.'

‘Well drive safe, you hear. And watch out for the roos this time of the night. Bloody crazy buggers are all over the roads.'

‘Righto. Will do.' Jay stood and shook Frank's hand.

‘Stay out of trouble, Jay, and say g'day to your mum for me.'

‘Sure thing. You should come and visit one of these days and say g'day to her yourself, though. She'd like that. So would I. We don't live
that
far from here, you know.' Jay noticed Frank looked a little uncomfortable with the invitation. He paused for a moment, waiting for a reply, but silence hung heavily once again and Frank avoided his gaze. Jay picked his Akubra up from the desk and sauntered over to the front door of the police station, halting briefly as he and Frank exchanged a farewell nod.

Jay stepped into the soothing darkness of the balmy summer evening, confused by Frank's sudden awkwardness. He seemed to be avoiding Waratah Station these past few months and that worried Jay. He used to call out all the time for a cuppa. Jay pulled his keys free of his jeans pocket. He didn't have the energy to think about anything other than getting home to his bed. Why did everything have to be so goddamn hard and when was life going to give him the break he'd been silently praying for?

1861 — Goldbury, New South Wales

The scattered light from the numerous hanging kerosene lanterns illuminated the randomly placed tables beneath. The devoted poker players sat clutching their cards close to their chests while other patrons chose to mill about at the bar, drinking away their concerns or flirting with the skimpily-clad brothel women. Sliding three glass tumblers across the worn timber bar, Anne filled them with whisky, thinking how grateful she was to her blue-blooded grandfather, whose generosity allowed her such independence. Thanks to the money he'd left her, she owned the town butchery, as well as the hotel. But, even though she was proud of her achievements, she would give it all up in a heartbeat to run away up north with William. She had stash of money — small though it was — that would help aid their flight.

Anne passed a whisky to each of the police officers sitting opposite her. She could feel Hocking's beady eyes undressing her and she had to fight the urge to gag. The man was repulsive, with his unbathed stench and greasy hair, and reminded her of a filthy leech. The thought of squashing him underfoot as he squirmed across the floor made Anne smirk, which Hocking mistook for a smile. The senseless man.

He reached across the bar and forcefully grabbed her hand, running his grubby thumb suggestively over her tense fingers, confidently ignoring her unease. Anne tried to pull free but he tightened his grip painfully around her wrist, a malevolent leer curling his dry, cracked lips. Anne's free hand clenched into a fist. She bit the inside of her lip, tasting blood, urging herself not to say anything to provoke Hocking's terrible temper. His sudden outbursts scared the wits out of her and Hocking was certainly not shy of hitting women. Images of the night she had helped William escape from prison came flooding back to her. Hocking had tried to get rid of William so he could have her for himself, and she had used this knowledge to her advantage by wooing the drunken sergeant while William had broken out of his cell with the aid of a few of his mates and fled. That night, Anne had allowed Hocking to get as far as almost kissing her before shying away, though it had revolted her to let him touch her at all. Hocking had never been able to prove her involvement in William's escape, although he was suspicious that she was still consorting with the wanted bushranger.

‘Ahh, I like the fierceness in you, Miss Willows. It makes me want you all the more. You can fight me all you want but one day you'll give in. One day you'll be mine . . .' He kissed the back of her hand then licked it suggestively. Anne's skin crawled as if there were a million ants upon her. ‘And if you don't warm to the idea of becoming my wife, then I will just make it so. You'll find love in your heart for me eventually, you'll see. And if you don't, well, so be it. You don't need to love me for me to have my way with you, or for you to bear my children. I'm a patient man,
Anne
, but let me warn you, my patience is running thin. I'm not going to wait much longer to bed you.'

Anne yanked her hand free and urgently wiped it on her skirt, recoiling from the smell of stale alcohol on Hocking's sour breath. ‘I'd rather take my last lungful of air than be yours. You will never get the chance to have your way with me. Never!'

Hocking threw his head back, a guttural laugh erupting from his weathered lips, his fellow officers joining in with gusto as they vigorously fondled the breasts of the women in their laps. Hocking halted his sarcastic mirth abruptly, his dark eyes burning menacingly into Anne's as his gaze returned to her. Slamming his fist down onto the bar, he sent one of the empty whisky glasses flying to the floor, where the glass shattered on impact. A scrawny man behind him stood to come to her rescue, but Anne gave the well-meaning patron a look that said it wasn't worth it, and that she could handle it, and the man obligingly sat back down as though relieved. No honest man wanted to come up against the law, especially when it was Hocking.

Hocking frowned, his face reddening. ‘Now, you listen closely,
woman
. I get
everything
I want in life. Everything! And I'm warning you, don't make this hard for me or I will take from you the one thing you love the most. William Campbell will die his sentenced death if I get hold of him and I will gratifyingly hang him with my very own hands if you don't freely give yourself to me.'

Anne felt her breath catch in her throat, a mixture of fear and fury making her whole body tremble and her heart pound erratically. How she would love to pull the shotgun from beneath the bar and shoot Hocking right between the eyes. Nothing would please her more. Hocking was pushing her beyond her limits, taunting a woman who was deeply and devotedly in love. She would go to any lengths to protect William, as she knew William would for her: that was what true love was all about. Not that Hocking would understand that. He only thought with what was between his legs.

Katherine, the barmaid, stopped wiping the glass in her hands, her eyes conveying a mixture of concern and fear. Anne discreetly shook her head, not wanting Katherine to get involved. The poor woman had already been on the receiving end of Hocking's anger and her face had been swollen and bruised for a week. As usual, Hocking had gotten away with it because
he
was the law.

Before she said or did something she'd regret, Anne straightened her back and padded away, keen to be in the company of more desirable patrons down the other end of the bar. To pull herself from the raw emotion of the moment, she allowed her mind's eye to fill with images of William. Her heart ached for him. How long would it be before she could wrap her arms around him again and feel his lips upon hers?

It had been almost two months since she had seen him last and her body craved his touch, his love. She just prayed he was safe and sound — not knowing was torture. The only assurance she had from the uncertainty of his well-being was that Hocking and his men, originally from Sydney, had a complete lack of bush sense, making it hard for them to find William and his gang out in the vast Goldbury bushlands. Another advantageous aspect was that most of the diggers held great disrespect for the law, as Hocking's ignorance of their way of life and his harsh treatment of them caused much disdain among the prospectors. Thank God for small mercies, Anne thought as she rubbed her increasingly ill tummy. She would have to be more careful of what she ate; food poisoning was common and she couldn't afford to take a bad turn when she had a hotel to run. Perhaps it was just the stress from everything getting to her and making her feel unwell.

The early morning mist sat heavily amid the tall shady red gums and thick scrub, curling itself around the foot of the valley like a snake and adding a ghostlike presence to the crisp autumn day. William and his youthful gang — Joey, Ben and David — hid among the shadows of the bush on their mounts, their trap set, waiting for the perfect time to pounce, all four men weary from lack of wholesome food and decent rest. They slept with one eye open, fearing discovery by the troopers and being dragged off to the gallows. The four had worked together to place a large fallen tree across the trail, stopping anyone travelling towards Kilmaroy. And William had caught wind of a wealthy businessman travelling this way with his hoard of gold, money and fine jewels.

William's belly growled loudly and he patted it, muttering to himself, ‘Not long now and I'll get some grub into ya. One more job and then we'll be off to Goldbury.'

Joey, William's right-hand man and lifelong mate, grinned cheekily beneath his hat, squinting while inspecting the barrel of his rifle. ‘I bet you'll be getting more than food back at Goldbury, Will. The lovely Miss Willows will make sure of it.'

William chuckled. Humour was free and it was what kept them going through the tough times. And there were plenty of those. ‘That's enough talk like that of my Anne, Joey. Besides, jealousy is a curse, my friend. A man can't help the fact the most gorgeous woman in the world is madly in love with him.'

Joey placed his gun down beside him and smiled broadly. ‘Trust me, Will, I have plenty of women who are madly in love with me.' He motioned to his strong, six-foot build. ‘What's not to love about all this? The women go crazy for it. There's a lot of me to love.'

Will snorted as he steadied his horse. ‘You're a fool to believe that, Joey. The women you choose to bed are in love with the money you pay them, not the fine specimen of a man you are.'

That sent all four into deep rumbles of laughter, the seriousness of what might lie ahead momentarily forgotten. They had never tried to pull off a heist the size of this and William's nerves were rampant in his belly. No man had ever tried robbing the richest man in Australia, Ronald Barrington, and lived, since a mob of armed men travelled with the carriage for protection. William wasn't alone in despising the man. Barrington had gained his fortunes by ruthlessly stealing land from under hardworking farmers' feet. He'd used the value of a verbal agreement to his advantage, proving to the avaricious British government that without a written contract, these farmers had no rightful ownership of the land they made a living from. This meant the government still legally owned it, and Barrington persuaded the government to sell the land and all the cattle upon it to him for his own greedy enterprises.

The humble farmers and their families didn't have a leg to stand on, and no money to keep hold of the cherished properties they had shed blood, sweat and tears to create. For Barrington and the government it was a win-win situation: the British government made money from an asset they hadn't even contemplated and Barrington got his land and livestock dirt cheap. Sadly, for the penniless farmers, it meant homelessness, many of them moving to the goldfields with the hope of making it rich, most finding that they were only lucky to make enough to put food on the table for their wives and children.

William believed it was time for Barrington to endure some justice for his actions. He was ready to take from Barrington what he had taken from the farmers, and was eager to be able to give what he could back to them — after his gang's share for their troubles, of course. William knew he was risking his life but if it all went as planned, this would change his life, and Anne's, forever, so it was well worth the gamble.

‘I just hope they have stores of pork and brandy on this coach. A man needs his meat and liquor out here when there are no women to take pleasure in!' Ben said, licking his lips.

‘Hear hear!' agreed David, a broad grin creasing his features. ‘I'd be happy as Larry with a bottle of liquor and a side of pork — still oinking if necessary. I'd have no trouble eating the bloody bastard raw, I'm that hungry.'

William nodded. ‘Bloody oath, I'm afraid the rations of damper and tea have dulled the senses. I'm certainly in need of some homemade tucker, as we all are. And a good night's sleep in a warm and cosy bed wouldn't go astray either.'