Ironbark (45 page)

He gave a wry grin. According to Keziah's dream he would find Pearl hiding in a tree.
There's only a few million trees in the colony. By the law of averages Kez has to get a prediction right sooner or later.

Daniel Browne felt like he was living a double life. During the first year of their marriage he had worked diligently to establish his reputation with Hobson and Bloom as a reliable ticket-of-leave man ready to tackle any work asked of him. Word of mouth drew additional employment from other landholders including Terence Ogden. But Daniel hungered to spend more time with his ‘mistress'.

He took a step back to cast a critical eye over the outhouse he had designed and assembled in an attempt to please Keziah. He had tried to anticipate his wife's wishes in the hope of bridging the unnatural chasm between them. It surprised him to discover that despite Keziah's dramatically fluctuating moods he liked living with her. And he was touched by the way Gabriel looked up to him.

When he screwed the final hinge in place he called Keziah to gauge her reaction to the design he had worked on in secret. The outhouse was a miniature castle with castellated roof, slit windows and, in place of a conventional door, a drawbridge that lowered across a miniature moat, which was naturally empty due to the drought but lined with blue paper to simulate water.

‘Well? What do you think, wife? Do you want to christen it or shall I?'

But Gabriel claimed the prize, running to take up residence, yelling with excitement.

When Daniel met Keziah's eyes he was relieved to see she was amused by his fanciful creation.

She giggled behind her hands. ‘He thinks the outhouse is a new toy you built for him!'

‘It is!' Daniel said and joined in her laughter. He felt an odd stirring
in his breast. Was this unknown emotion a glimmer of domestic contentment? He took a chance on broaching the delicate subject – Keziah's firm resolution to sleep alone under the stars.

He used sarcasm as a shield against rejection. ‘I've decided to build another bedroom. We don't want to give Ironbark gossips the impression we don't like each other, do we?'

He felt irritated by her wary nod of agreement. Why? He had remained true to his end of their pact – never showed her overt affection except in public. When alone with her he took care not to take any liberties. Yet he felt her growing tension in living at close quarters.

He privately conceded their arrangement was easier for him. Each Saturday night he exercised his new-found freedom in an outlying shepherd's hut where Irish fiddlers, moonshine grog and any other diversion a man might want were freely available. Keziah asked no questions. He almost wished that she would.

• • • 

That Saturday night, on his return home from Scotty the Shepherd's hut, the magnetism of the full moon was compounded by an electrical storm. Hobson's cattle dogs howled in response to native dingoes in the bush.

Daniel burst in from the storm, forced to a standstill, entranced by the sight of her. Keziah had bathed and washed her hair in rosemary oil. She stood naked by the fire drying her hair. Firelight washed over her skin and turned her body golden brown. Her hair clung to her like a wet black cloak – a gorgeous Magdalene of a woman. He raised his hands in a gesture of awe and surrender.

‘Keziah, do you trust me? I've never asked anything of you. Now I beg you lie on the bed. I
need
to paint you as God made you.' At her hesitation he promised, ‘That's all.'

Keziah lay across the bed, watching him through half-closed eyes as he worked through the night. Daniel was transformed by the creative fire that burned inside him.

At dawn the first stage of the work was finished. He bent over her sleeping form to see her smiling in her dreams. On impulse he gently kissed her mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise.

‘I won't apologise,' said Daniel. ‘I had a sudden desire to taste you. To see what I was missing. What other men desire from you.' He added wearily, ‘Get dressed, m'dear.'

He saw from her expression she was trying to understand him. He made an attempt to sound casual. ‘Tell me. Am I so repulsive to you?'

Keziah pulled the sheet across her body. ‘No. I'm sure you are an attractive man – to others.' She faltered. ‘I can read most people but I can't fathom your eyes. I sense you want more than one woman can give you. You only feel true passion for your art.'

‘Yes. My mistress always comes first.' He paused. ‘But what if I offered you my body? Be honest, aren't you curious about me? You need a man in your bed, any fool can see that.'

Over the past months she had gradually grown more tolerant towards him, but now the expression in her eyes made Daniel feel she was trying to probe his mind. He didn't like that.

‘What of
your
needs, Daniel? You're attracted to women's bodies as an artist and I can see in your eyes you admire me. But you don't
need
a woman.'

Daniel flinched. His heart raced with sickening speed. Was she bluffing? Did she know how he felt?

Keziah sounded suspicious. ‘I suspect you never loved Saranna, but you saw it was to your advantage to marry her until her father stood trial. And you gave evidence against him?'

‘No! Maynard Plews
chose
to plead guilty so I'd be free to marry his daughter.'

He realised that damned inner eye of hers had stumbled on the truth. He couldn't hide his guilty reaction.

‘So Saranna's father was innocent! You caused him to be transported for
your
crime!'

Daniel rose in agitation. ‘What a paragon of virtue you are! A liar who twists the law to suit yourself and has the hide to judge me by your lofty Romani standards.'

‘Yes! I'd do it all again to protect Gabriel. But no one has suffered at
my
hands. How can you live with what you did to Saranna's father?'

Daniel collapsed in his chair, all anger spent.

‘It's too late to put the past to rights. Maynard Plews is dead. He drowned working in the lime kilns in Newcastle. It was recorded in the muster book.'

Daniel felt oddly relieved his cowardice was at last out in the open, even if only to be shared with a woman who held him in contempt. Was it time to reveal that other dark truth gnawing inside him?

• • • 

Three weeks later Christmas Eve finally arrived. Not a moment too soon for Gabriel. The boy had gone to bed early in his boxroom in a last-minute attempt to prove himself worthy of a visit by ‘the Old Man in the red suit who brings presents to good children'.

Daniel sat at the kitchen table painting the final touches on the wooden box shaped like a toy boat he had made for Gabriel. Keziah sat reading a pile of old newspapers by the mellow oil lamp. He knew that as much as she loved teaching she was glad the schoolhouse would lie dormant for two weeks, giving her the chance to catch up with her reading and time to spend lazy summer days with Gabriel.

Keziah grew animated when she read aloud to him about the planned arrival in Sydney of the 267 male prisoners on the
Eden
. ‘They say this will be the last ever transport to unload British convicts in this colony, although they'll still dump the poor lads in Van Diemen's Land and Norfolk Island. But it does look like the death knell of the system, doesn't it? Jake
will
be pleased.'

Daniel looked up sharply at the mention of Jake's name. ‘Yes, I imagine we'll be seeing more of him soon.' He tried to turn the conversation to the current speculations about Governor Gipps's law and order
policies now that the end of transportation left the door open for more free settlers to arrive. Keziah ignored that and read out details of the exploits of the young bushranger Teddy Davis, leader of the so-called Jew Boy's Mob that had been terrorising the Hunter Valley district.

Daniel was irritated. ‘Why are you so concerned about them? What happens to
us
? Bushrangers won't disappear simply because transport ships stop unloading their convict cargo in New South Wales.'

He was about to back his argument with quotes from the official
Sydney Gazette
and the ‘convicts' bible'
The Sydney Monitor
, but he knew Keziah's entrenched bias was on the side of bushrangers because of Gem. She wasted no time in voicing it.

‘George Hobson told me Gideon Park was bailed up in the Jonstones' absence by Jake's mate, Will Martens. Weren't you pleased to hear Will padlocked their overseer in the stocks while he overhauled the place? What do they call that man? The Devil Himself?'

Despite his years of suffering at Gideon Park, Daniel's response was scathing. ‘Will's an idiot. The Devil Himself has a bloody long memory.'

Keziah was determined to test where Daniel's sympathies lay. ‘If a bolter came to our door would you give him food? I know Jake would.'

‘More fool Jake. Why should I risk losing my ticket? Worse – get sent to Norfolk Island for giving succour to a bushranger. My duty is to protect you and Gabriel.'

‘A noble sentiment which protects your own hide,' she said with contempt.

Daniel flashed back, ‘You'd be happy if
I
was the one shot dead, wouldn't you?'

‘I want the death of no man on my conscience, but I tell you straight, Daniel, I'll not be guilty of turning a hungry bolter from my door knowing it could have been Gem!'

‘No man is good enough to stand in that Gypsy's shadow, is he?' He
caught her chin and forced her to look at him. ‘Except maybe Jake Andersen?'

Keziah pulled away. ‘Don't be foolish. Jake is just my mate.'

‘Make sure that's all he is, Mrs Browne!' he warned.

Daniel stalked out and saddled the brumby, intent on getting drunk at Scotty the Shepherd's hut. Keziah never seemed to give a damn how he spent his time, but she was irritated whenever he took her horse, the only one they owned, without her permission.

• • • 

Early Christmas morning Daniel returned to the only home he had ever known. He swaggered through the door, unshaven, yesterday's clothes musky with sweat, but he tried to give the impression nothing in the world was wrong. Keziah was busy at the stove. Gabriel entered in his nightshirt clearly disappointed Father Christmas had left no presents.

‘Look! He's been!' Daniel made a great show of surprise as he lifted the tablecloth to reveal the toy boat he had finished the night before. He enjoyed the boy's cries of delight. From the pockets of his overcoat hanging on the peg behind the door and hidden in corners around the room, Daniel allowed Gabriel to discover the series of carved miniature animals he'd made. Together they lined them up beside the boat. The animals marched two by two.

‘Is that Noah's Ark from the
gaujo
bible?' Keziah asked.

Daniel nodded. ‘I told Gabriel the story of the flood. Now he expects a rainbow in the sky every day to prove God won't forget his promise not to flood the world again.' He was suddenly concerned. ‘Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten him.'

He handed Gabriel a parcel to give to his mother and prompted him to say ‘Merry Christmas'. At the door he said flippantly, ‘No need to tell me I smell bad. I'll wash in the creek.'

Keziah's response was dismissive. ‘You'd have to walk until New Year to find more than a puddle. Hobson gave me water from his
tank. Go outside. I'll bring you hot water.'

Washed and changed into clean clothing, Daniel watched her open the carved box on which he had painted a Romani
vardo
and two small boys – one black, one blond. Gabriel instantly recognised himself and Murphy. Keziah made no comment.

Daniel felt oddly disappointed. He knew she had put aside presents for Nerida and Murphy ready for their return from the Snowy River High Country where they had joined a remnant of her tribe to feast on bogong moths, perhaps for the last time. Each year more of her people were displaced by the encroaching tide of settlers.

Daniel knew Christmas meant nothing to Keziah but she had the Romani tolerance of other people's gods. She might at least have shown some response to his present as he had spent hours carving that damned box for her.

‘I'll be back after the service,' he said gruffly and stalked off to the chapel.

• • • 

On his return his mood changed to pleasure when he found the whole cottage massed with candles and red and green bush foliage.

Keziah made an awkward gesture of apology. ‘The next best thing to England's mistletoe, holly and ivy.'

‘I love the Australian flavour,' he said, smiling at Keziah's attempt at making a Christmas tree, the German tradition that was growing popular in imitation of the Prince Consort's lavish Christmas trees for the Royal Family.

Planted in an empty beer barrel was a baby pine tree decorated with clumps of the red and yellow floral bells of the Australian Christmas bush. In place of snow Keziah had hung the tree with handmade white pompoms.

Daniel could not contain his delight at the figure in the corner adorned with his striped scarf and cabbage-tree hat – its eyes, nose and mouth were buttons sewn on to a sheepskin body. It was the world's
most incongruous snowman, but Daniel was deeply touched.

‘This is the best Christmas I've ever had.' His nose twitched. ‘What's that wonderful smell? Brush turkey? Plum pudding? You clever girl. Every symbol of Home, even snow.'

‘Feathers falling from angels' wings,' Gabriel confided.

At the end of the meal Daniel downed his red wine and sank back in the carver's chair replete. Keziah's frown of concern drew him to the window where they scanned the horizon. Ominous blue smoke rose to the sky, the sign of a distant bushfire. Daniel made light of the danger, but the hot westerly wind warned him he must keep a watchful eye out for any sudden change of direction.