Ironbark (43 page)

Jake had seen more than enough. He rode Horatio off at a gallop, but as he reached the Sydney Road he remembered his saddlebag contained a wedding present for Keziah. That would have to wait. He didn't fancy returning to the wedding breakfast to hear that bloody artist make flowery speeches about the bride.

What he needed right now was a very long night with Lily Pompadour – Wednesday was too far away.

• • • 

When Daniel entered the schoolhouse with Keziah on his arm he was surprised to find a lavish wedding breakfast set up in a horseshoe pattern of tables. He knew this was Keziah's doing. She had cooked a mountain of food for the adults and made fancy party treats for the village children.

He watched her as she mingled with the guests, clearly determined to wear her public smile until her face ached. Only he and Nerida could see the truth in her eyes.

When the final guests had departed, cheered on by wine and goodwill, Daniel escorted his bride home in silence. She was no sooner inside the front door than she changed into her house dress and released her pent-up feelings by cleaning the already spotless cottage.

Daniel sat on the squatter's chair on the veranda, blowing lazy smoke rings with one of the cigars from the box that was an early wedding present from Jake Andersen. Daniel liked and trusted Jake but he was well aware that his wedding plans had created an underlying tension between them.

Now as he worked on a fresh portrait of Jake, Daniel wondered what made the Currency Lad so different to other men? Only one generation away from his European roots, but already this alien land had left its imprint on Jake's face and body. Did it also possess his soul? The things that were foreign to Daniel were Jake's heritage – his earth, sky,
air, water. It was as if Jake had emerged half finished from a new mould of Englishman. No manners in the accepted sense, but he had genuine, offhand kindness.

As the portrait swiftly developed into the superbly muscled body of a prize fighter, Daniel recalled the way Jake had presented his gift of cigars with the warning, ‘Smoke them outside or Kez'll chase you with her broom.'

Like many Currency Lads Jake seemed more comfortable in the presence of men. He half treated Keziah like a mate. But the other half? Daniel was taking no chances. Exulting in his precious freedom, he was determined to safeguard it. He rejoiced in the knowledge he had at last broken free from the Devil Himself and that Keziah, the price of that freedom, was ‘money' well spent.

He raised his glass in a toast, ‘To
me
! The lord and master!'

The words had a good ring to them, but when the door flew open Keziah's expression showed she had overheard them. She charged off towards the creek, a washing basket balanced on her head.

‘I don't believe it! My bride's washing dirty linen on our wedding day.'

‘What better day?'

Daniel was determined to have the final word. ‘We'll be a long time married, Mrs Browne!'

• • • 

Kneeling at the creek Keziah felt relieved to be alone. At the thought of Daniel's ‘holy' kiss at the altar she wiped her lips to erase the memory. She tried to dredge up Romani philosophy but it was cold comfort.
That will be our first and last kiss! Gem scorned me, Jake rejected me as a lover. Now I must live like sister and brother with a
gaujo
husband. It's hard to see how this wrong road could ever be the road I was meant to take.

Today for the first time in years she had a man's clothing to wash. Wistfully she compared her resentment with her sense of privilege as a fourteen-year-old bride washing Gem's clothes. She paused in the act of
scrubbing them on a rock. How odd. Daniel had given her all his wedding clothes to wash with one glaring exception. His shirt. What on earth did that mean?

His parting words resounded in her ears. ‘We'll be a long time married, Mrs Browne!'

She said the words aloud to give herself courage. ‘Not if I can help it, Mr Browne!'

• • • 

That evening Daniel felt a surge of contentment as he ate a fine Romani meal. He responded with genuine interest to the wonderful blend of lamb and exotic spices.

‘How superb. I have married myself a fine cook! Is this to celebrate our marriage?'

‘No. To mark your freedom from Gideon Park. No dog deserves to be assigned there.'

Although she declined the wine he offered, Daniel could detect no deliberate insult when she told him she only drank occasionally with friends.

‘So your husband can never be your friend?' Daniel teased.

‘My Romani husband was my friend.'

Daniel was determined to keep the upper hand. ‘Then let's toast Gem. As God wills right now he's involved in a robbery under arms or else he's in prison. While thanks to you I'm a free man!'

‘Yes,' Keziah added, ‘there's no accounting for the ways of
The Del
.'

Daniel let that pass, allowing himself to be seduced by the roast lamb. His murmurs of pleasure were so appreciative that Keziah finally gave him a reluctant smile.

‘Perhaps I'll invite you to dinner again some time.'

‘I'll come running,' he promised.

At the end of the meal he yawned. ‘Well, bride, where do you want me to sleep?'

‘The marital bed, where else?' she said.

Daniel felt confused. Her tone was polite, as if to a house guest. Uncertain of his next move he asked her where she was going.

‘To sleep under the stars.'

He kicked off his boots and shucked his trousers across the floor. He did not remove his wedding shirt, but rolled over onto his stomach, luxuriating in having a large bed to himself. Tonight that was all he needed. Tomorrow would take care of itself.

The yellow orb of the moon shone through the window. Daniel drifted into sleep with the forgotten taste of freedom in his mouth. Tears trickled from the corners of his eyes.

Thank you, Holy Mother, for setting me free.

• • • 

For Jake, Keziah's wedding night ended at the Four Sisters, where he bought drinks for the house. When Lily Pompadour came downstairs she took one look at him. There was urgency in every muscle in his body. Without a word he steered her to the stairs.

She shrugged. ‘I'm sorry, Jake darling. I've got a client waiting for me.'

Jake was in no mood to argue. When he opened the door to her room the man who waited for her sat naked on the edge of her bed. Anger flooded over Jake.

‘You! Grab your trousers. Get out of here. She's
my
wife tonight.'

The man was small and vulnerable, but he was no coward. ‘I've paid me money. And she's washed me. I won't be long. Then you can have her.'

‘You won't
live
long enough to do it if you don't pick another woman. Get!'

The man grabbed his boots and fled. Jake felt like a Viking on the rampage.

Lily took her cue. ‘I'm always glad to see you, Jake, but it isn't Wednesday.'

‘From now on it's Wednesday whenever I bloody say it's Wednesday!'

She caught his mood and began to play rough. ‘What's the celebration in aid of?'

‘My best mate got married today,' he said, but he felt far from happy.

Lily gave a shiver of triumph as he began to work her hard. ‘Yes, Jake! Give
me
everything. I'll make you forget
her
, I'll make it so good you'll forget your own name.'

He knew Lily could take away the pain, but it would need to be a very long night.

• • • 

For Keziah, her wedding night was a lonely maze of soul searching. She curled up outside Gabriel's window to hear him if he woke. Fine rain softly caressed her hair.

A night under the stars like all the Romani nights of her childhood, except that here in Jake's part of the world the stars were upside down. Keziah could recognise the Seven Stars that
gaujos
called the Pleiades, a different pattern in the southern hemisphere sky. Jake's Milky Way stretched across the heavens like the fairytale mirage of a lost city.

Was Gem sleeping under these same stars? Did he still hate her? No. In that terrible moment of truth in the cave he had cried out,
‘Forgive us both.'
Gem was on a very different
drom
. But where on earth was
her
road leading?

How ridiculous this wedding night was. The groom was inside, the bride
outside
. The only one making a lusty night of it would be Jake. She created an unwelcome fantasy of Jake in bed with four naked ‘sisters'. Jake was giving some unknown redhead the ride of her life. Keziah admonished herself.
It's none of your business what Jake does.

It was then she saw it – that dual dimension of time. Her eyes were drawn to the moonlit paddock and Gabriel's pony. Riding him bareback was a freckled red-headed toddler, wearing ill-fitting clothes as if his mother had dressed him in a hurry.

Keziah felt a stab of jealousy as she recognised Jake's future son.
That redhead's son? Or Jenny's? She gave a sad little wave to the lad as the pony turned and trotted away. The child faded from sight until only the pony remained.

The shadow of a cloud passed over the face of
Shon
in the moon. Keziah's prayer was in her heart and on her lips. ‘
Mi-duvel
, please take care of Jake for me.'

She looked up at Jake's Milky Way and spoke the words softly. ‘We made a pact, didn't we, Jake? Wives, husbands and lovers come and go but mates are forever.'

From the marital bed came the terrible sound of a man in anguish. ‘No, no! You promised!'

Her
Puri Dai's
first rule – a healer must never ignore those in pain. From the doorway she saw Daniel lying face down, locked in a bad dream. She froze in shock. His wedding shirt was saturated with blood from the stripes of a recent flogging.

Keziah never doubted her Romani beliefs were true.
This is not the road I wanted to take but it's not the wrong road. It's the road I was meant to take.

She slipped inside her cottage to use her gifts to heal her husband. All night she lay awake. The stranger she had married lay cradled like a child asleep in her arms.

Setting out on the first leg of his previously abandoned journey to Sydney Town, Jake Andersen felt confused and angry over his failure to rescue Keziah on her wedding day. He hadn't seen the bride and groom in the days since, but he had built up much needed funds by winning a local prize fight.

It was no consolation that his Romani mate would use her weird wrong-road-is-the-right-road philosophy to interpret marriage to Daniel as an act of destiny.
Not to me, it ain't. Destiny is superstitious bulldust.

He would no longer be able to drop in for a yarn with her whenever the mood took him. He debated the wisdom of making a detour to deliver her belated present and decided against the idea. But at the approach to the Ironbark turn-off Horatio released a restless whinny.

Jake gave him a reassuring pat. ‘All right, mate, I can take a hint.'

His hackles rose at the sight of Daniel on Keziah's veranda. Sketching. The hair curling around his aesthetic features reminded Jake of that mad poet Lord Byron who drove women crazy.
Just look at him. What else could Daniel be but a bloody artist?

Jake felt confused by his anger. He had been quite matey with Daniel before his marriage and had even sung the bloke's praises to Keziah that night she got cold feet and wanted to call off the wedding. Why this sudden surge of resentment?

He swaggered up the steps. ‘How's married life treating you?' This was the standard greeting to a bridegroom, but Jake didn't really want to know the answer. He had never believed that their bloody stupid platonic marriage agreement would survive the wedding night.

Daniel looked smug. ‘My bride is everything a man could want.'

Jake sized him up as he would an opponent in the ring. ‘Yeah. Well, I'm off to Sydney Town. Just wanted to give Kez a bit of news. Not a good time, eh?'

Daniel avoided a direct response. ‘Thanks for my wedding present, Jake. These cigars are better than a clay pipe any day.' He blew a chain of smoke rings into the air.

The confident gesture irritated Jake. They stared each other out.

Finally Daniel lowered the drawbridge. ‘My bride's inside.'

Keziah turned from the stove as Jake entered. Her vivid blue eyes always gave him a bit of a jolt and no less today. Her hair half escaped the yellow ribbon tied at the nape of her neck. Wet tendrils curled over her ears. A Mother Hubbard pinafore covered her dress. She had a smudge of flour on her cheek that Jake had a strong urge to brush away.

He searched her face, not quite knowing what he expected to find. Or even if he wanted to see it when he did. His thoughts were confused.
Her eyes don't have that dreamy look some women get after you've made love to them all night and they're so damned pleased with themselves. Like they've invented the whole business.

He handed Keziah his parcel and made an oblique reference to her public role as Saranna. ‘A late wedding present. Open it later. I reckon you'll want to keep it under wraps – you being a teacher.'

Naturally curiosity got the better of her. She gasped with pleasure. ‘Tarot cards!'

Jake jerked his head in the direction of the veranda. ‘I reckon by now Dan must know all that stuff about you and Saranna?'

Keziah's reply was ambiguous. ‘As much as he needs to know.'

Her eyes unnerved him.
She always seems to know what I am thinking.

‘Good luck with the American,' she said casually.

Jake was stunned. ‘Jeez, how'd you know that? I ain't even met him yet.'

‘I read the advertisement for Benjamin Rogers's agency in
The Sydney
Herald.
I also saw you in a dream, surrounded by men with tridents. Your daughter was hidden in a tree. That Yankee will lead you to her.'