Ironbark (38 page)

They both saw Trooper Doolan, his pistol hand flexed at the ready. Suddenly Gem began to play the fool, calling Jake names from the gutter.

Gem dropped his guard and Jake seized his chance. He delivered his killer punch and Gem went down in an almost theatrical freefall, clutching at the sky as he keeled backwards onto a bale of hay. Out cold.

Ernie the referee counted thirty, then raised Jake's right arm in a victory salute.

Jake was stunned. ‘Jesus wept! I won, did I?'

He took a swig of Mac's whisky and saw Trooper Doolan moving towards Gem. ‘Gem's been sprung!' he warned Mac.

They exchanged a nod and Jake grabbed Mac and yelled in his face. ‘You bastard! Call St Patrick a Miss Molly do you?' He assumed a fighting stance. ‘Not in my presence you don't!'

His fake punch connected with Mac who, schooled in his role, roared for blood. To the shocked delight of the crowd the pair started a brawl cutting off Trooper Doolan's advance towards Jim Romani.

The Irish half of the crowd yelled as one, ‘In defence of St Patrick, lads!' The stoush was open to all comers and Jake saw that Trooper Doolan was caught at the heart of it. No doubt the Irish lags knew full well the trooper had recently shot dead a young Irish bolter. There was no telling who hit Doolan first, but he sank to the ground under a torrent of blows.

Jake looked around him. Gem Smith was nowhere in sight. Mac bundled Jake onto his cart and cracked his whip at the sky.

‘There he goes!' Jake grinned at the sight of the galloping figure with his purple robe flapping behind him.

‘Good on him!' said Mac. ‘Now get your arse together. We just might make it in time to catch Sarishan race.'

‘That was some fight!' Jake crowed. ‘How much did you win on me?'

‘I'll tell you later,' Mac mumbled.

Jake suspected his mate had lost money betting on Gem. Who bloody cared? To Jake this win was worth more than gold. Kez would get what she wanted one way or another.

• • •

On their arrival at the new Ironbark racecourse Jake saw that the crowd was happily fuelled with liquor.

The members' grandstand was festooned with striped canvas and bunting, and the Quality swarmed around the governor's party like bees around a vice-regal honey pot. Champagne flowed and Terence Ogden's assigned men moved through the ranks of the gentry with silver platters piled high with oysters, chicken, ham, exotic fruits and pastries.

At the other end of the social scale convicts and ticket-of-leave men queued up at the canvas tent set aside for them. Joseph Bloom had organised kegs of beer and every man toasted Her Majesty with each free drink.

Jake grinned. ‘Give assigned lads free grog and they turn into true-blue royalists.'

He slowly read his way through the program notes. ‘Jesus wept, mate. Cop this. It's a dead giveaway. It says, “Sarishan. Trainer Mr Jakob Andersen. Owner Mr
G.G.
Smith!”'

He downed his ale. ‘So if Sarishan wins and I collect the silver cup on The Gypsy's behalf, the traps could well arrest me for consorting with bushrangers!'

Mac looked hopeful. ‘Maybe Gem won't show.'

‘Not a chance!' Jake's eyes raked the crowd. ‘If Gem ain't in the
stur
, he'll be here somewhere. Keep your eyes peeled. I need to have a quick word with Dick Gideon.'

The horses were lining up at the barrier for the start of the race. The jockeys' bold colours flashed in the sunlight.

Elated by his boxing win and only moderately drunk on alcohol and fatigue, Jake ran over to where Sarishan was pawing the ground, clearly ready for action. He stroked the colt's mane, proud that he had groomed him until his coat shone like black satin.

Dick Gideon wore the red, gold and black racing silks his mother had made him. Despite his pre-race nerves, he gave Jake a smile as bright as Christmas.

‘Look Dick, you don't need no last-minute advice from me. Sarishan's like your blood brother. You'll know in your gut when it's time to give him his head.'

Dick's chest puffed out with pride. He nodded and manoeuvred Sarishan to the barrier.

It was no surprise to Jake that Ogden's horse, Jupiter's Darling, had drawn the best position. His jockey wore Ogden's Cornish colours of black with a white cross. He was clearly battling to keep the temperamental chestnut in line, but Jake knew the organisers were not game to run the race without him. As host to the governor's party, Terence Ogden must not be seen to lose face.

A top-hatted official called instructions over a megaphone. No one took a blind bit of notice. The horses lined up any old how. An official raised the starter's flag above his head, then lowered it. The field was away. It was instant chaos. One gelding reared and bolted in the opposite direction. Another jockey was thrown and stalked off in disgust.

Jupiter's Darling took the lead from a ragged field. Sarishan was placed halfway back as they circled the course once, twice. By the third time around, the field had thinned out. Four horses battled neck and neck. Jupiter's Darling, Erin's Pride, Queen Bess and
coming up on the outside – Sarishan!

‘Struth,' said Jake, ‘Sarishan's got his second wind. He's flying!'

Homing down the straight there were only two serious contenders – Jupiter's Darling a few lengths in front of Sarishan. The crowd roared. Positioned on the rails Ogden's jockey looked over his shoulder to see the challenger coming down on the outside so he whipped Jupiter's Darling towards the finishing line.

Jake muttered under his breath, ‘Give Sarishan his head, Dick. Now!'

At that moment Dick let Sarishan break free to draw level with the leader.

In full view of the crowd Ogden's jockey raised his whip, slashing it across Dick Gideon's face. Jake yelled out when he saw the pain on the boy's face but was proud that the kid didn't lose control of his mount.

Sarishan seized the moment. He stretched his gallant heart to the limit and came home to win by half a length.

Jake and Mac were jubilant, so was a large sector of the crowd. The clue to Sarishan's ownership had clearly captured the convict vote, but Jake suddenly felt uneasy. A murmur spread around the course as the judges conferred in a huddle.

‘Shit, Mac, what's going on?'

A plummy voice announced over the megaphone, ‘Sarishan is disqualified. Jupiter's Darling is the winner!'

Jake and Mac were part of the tidal wave that moved on the judges' enclosure.

The official tried to stem their anger. ‘Sarishan is disqualified because the jockey is underage.'

Jake yelled at the crowd. ‘There was nothing on the entry form about a jockey's age!'

All hell broke loose. There were loud calls for the judges' blood. One official's top hat was sent spinning like a boomerang over the heads of the crowd.

Terence Ogden grabbed the megaphone and his Cornish accent boomed out. ‘In all fairness I cannot accept the silver cup. Sarishan beat my horse fair and square!'

Jake and Mac slapped each other around with great affection as Dick Gideon, his cheek bandaged, rode a lap of honour to the cheers of the crowd.

The plummy megaphone voice called for Mr Jakob Andersen to present himself.

‘Shit! What have I done now?' Glass in hand, Jake crossed to the official table where a gentleman winced at the sight of Jake's bruised eye and cut lip.

‘It seems the owner, Mr G.G. Smith, nominated you to collect the cup. But you can't possibly be presented to their Excellencies in that state. Don't even have a jacket, what!'

‘He does now!' Mac removed his own coat and bundled Jake into it.

‘Righto,' said Jake. ‘Never keep a lady waiting, and the gov never did me no harm. But I'll only do it if my jockey fronts up with me to get the credit. He did all the bloody work.'

Sarishan's trainer and jockey were battered but beaming as they accepted the trophy. Lady Elizabeth Gipps, a quiet, elegant figure beside the impressive, uniformed figure of her husband, warmly congratulated Jake then bent her head to smile into the little jockey's eyes.

‘Dick Gideon, you are to be congratulated on riding a brilliantly judged race. You kept your head under most trying circumstances.'

Her long gloved hand gestured to the boy's bandaged cheek to show the crowd that the cowardly attack had not gone unnoticed by Her Majesty's representatives.

Jupiter's Darling was awarded second place. Jake was satisfied to see Ogden give his jockey such a scorching public rebuke that the man slunk from the course in humiliation.

Cradling the silver cup like a babe in arms, Jake scanned the crowd.
He could hardly miss the figure on the perimeter. Mounted on Sarishan, Gem was resplendent in a scarlet military coatee adorned with yellow facing and gold epaulettes, worn in cavalier style with a broad-brimmed civilian hat that failed to disguise his Gypsy looks and gold earring. Seeing Jake he raised a victorious fist. Jake gave a tentative wave to avoid drawing attention to him.

Discretion was a waste of time. Gem played the victor to the hilt. Doffing his hat in a sweeping gesture to the crowd to acknowledge their congratulations, he finally departed. His military jacket was a bold splash of scarlet on the horizon as Sarishan galloped at a speed that could have set a new colonial record.

Jake watched in admiration till they were out of sight. ‘Now
that's
what I call a horse!'

Keziah felt like she was drowning when she looked through the window at the moon clearly outlined in the cloudless sky. Five full moons had waxed and waned since Daniel Browne had given her his ultimatum.

Joseph Bloom had gone through official channels to gain the absent Julian Jonstone's recommendation and the governor's sanction for the marriage. This would see Daniel officially re-assigned to his wife's custody and open the door for his ticket-of-leave.

Keziah felt guilty that Joseph had worked tirelessly on their behalf and dismissed the idea of payment.
How shocked he'd be if he knew just how much I loathe and detest my future husband.

When Polly Doyle rushed in to deliver the latest newspapers her master had brought Keziah from Goulburn, Keziah invited her to stay for tea. Polly breathlessly excused herself.

‘Up to me elbows in baking, I am. The way to a man's heart is through his belly, ain't it?'

Keziah smiled agreement but wondered if Polly meant George Hobson who clearly had his eye on her as future stepmother to his boys. Or did she fancy that shy coach driver Mac Mackie?

Keziah sat down at her kitchen table to read the latest news – and felt her whole world suddenly rock on its axis. A newspaper reported that a black tracker called Jacky Jacko had staggered into a remote South Australian homestead carrying an emaciated white man on his back. The victim was barely alive but was believed to be the missing explorer Caleb Morgan, long presumed dead.

Mi-duvel! Grandmother predicted men would cause chaos in my life if I made a terrible choice. And yet that mistake brought my greatest blessing – little Gabriel.

Only two weeks remained before the first of three consecutive Sundays in which the banns would be read in Ironbark Chapel for Daniel Browne to marry Saranna Plews. Keziah realised the terrible irony. This was the wedding she had promised Saranna to comfort her as the girl lay dying. A wedding she had foreseen down to the details of the bride's cameo brooch and the little blond boy – Gabriel!

She searched the sky for some omen in the faint hope that Gem might come back to her. Finding her ancestors silent she lost all hope and cried out in anguish to Gem's soul. ‘Love me or leave me!'

Her concentration was broken when Gabriel's head peered anxiously from beneath the kitchen table to ask in confusion, ‘
Me
, Mama?'

Keziah felt her heart catch in her throat at the sight of his unruly cowlick. No matter how often she slicked it down, it always broke free to remind her of Caleb Morgan.

‘Mama's just playing a game, Gabriel. I'll always love
you
. That's all that matters.' But was this strictly true?

She suspected Jake had done his damnedest to convince Gem to forgive her. She had heard village gossip about some fight with a ‘mysterious' Jim Romani and Jake had turned up soon after with a livid scar over one eyebrow. What had been the outcome of their fight? And where was Gem? There had been no recent reports of The Gypsy's gang.

She felt a rush of anger at the sight of Daniel's cap hanging on the hook behind the door. He had deliberately left it behind on one of his one-day visits, an indulgence granted by Julian Jonstone who now seem-ed as much Daniel's art patron as his master.

Keziah combed over every detail of Daniel's visits, his every word and expression, searching for some clue that had eluded her. Since childhood she had mastered the art of evaluating
gaujos
at face value, but she simply could not read Daniel.
The man Saranna loved and lost is a total enigma to me. Why can't I see inside him?

She felt as if she was being pulled into quicksand. The more she
struggled against the idea of marrying Daniel, the deeper she sank into despair.

The moment she saw Jake Andersen riding towards the cottage she ran out to greet him.

Today he looked grim. Mounted on Horatio, he held the reins of a second horse. As usual his manner was nothing if not direct.

‘The traps have been sent reinforcements 'cos the bushrangers are running them ragged. Gem's holed up in a cave to throw them off the scent, I finally tracked him down. He and me had a bit of a chat awhile back. Sorry I couldn't swing it for you, Kez. Your first choice.'

She sank down onto a chair. ‘You are a true friend, Jake. I don't know why you went to so much trouble, but I thank you for it.'

‘Gem says he'll never give himself up to the law, but he's agreed to meet you about that other business. I'm to take you to his hideout. Now.'