Ironbark (55 page)

Jake knew he could never carry her as his bride across a threshold. He did the reverse and carried her outside and laid her on his swag under the stars.

He gestured to the night sky. ‘I'm giving you everything that belongs to me. My Southern Cross and my Milky Way.'

Keziah knelt at his feet. ‘What more can any man give me?'

He looked down at her upturned face, her lush body. His throat so constricted that he was glad when Keziah used her words to mirror his thoughts.

‘Your body is beautiful, Jake.'

‘Took you long enough to notice,' he said.

She invited his mouth to explore her. ‘Don't get too cocky,' she warned.

‘Why not? I've got what every bloke for miles around has been fighting to get his hands on.'

‘It's you I want, Jake. It's always been you – even when I didn't know it!'

At that moment Jake didn't even care if that was the truth.

Keziah played the exotic Romani to the hilt. ‘Give me one night and I'll make you forget Jenny ever existed.'

They were like two equally matched prize fighters. Jake fought to keep the balance of power, drawing on every trick he knew. He made her laugh, he made her wait, he made her beg him.

Long before dawn came they both knew. They had found it. That rare thing shared between lovers when the scales of love and lust are in perfect balance.

Startled by what he had released in her, Jake watched Keziah sleep. He had always known there were two kinds of women – fallen women and good women. Keziah was neither and yet she was both. He felt off balance, in unknown erotic territory.

One image of Keziah kept going around in his head. That look of joy he had created in her face. Before dawn broke he rolled her over to sit astride his hips then lay watching her, his arms crossed beneath his head. Keziah looked like a naked ship's figurehead riding the high seas with the stars filtered through her wind-blown hair. The figurehead threw her arms wide as she thrust her breasts and her joyous cry into the face of the wind.

• • • 

As Keziah feigned sleep she thanked
The Del
for masking her fears. She had not lain with a man in four and a half years. In a single night Jake had liberated her and allowed her wild passion to meet his controlled passion headlong. As she lay in the slate-grey darkness she watched the shadowy outline of his body backlit by the tracery of firelight.

‘Am I asking too much of you?' he asked softly. She answered without words.

Under the cover of darkness he whispered into her hair. ‘Promise me only one thing, Kez. If you want to leave me, say it to my face. Don't let me come back to find you gone.'

‘I am not Jenny,' she promised.

At first light Keziah rolled into the warm hollow of the swag to find she was alone. Jake was nearby leaning against an ironbark tree dressed for the road. His expression was odd.

‘Forgive me, Kez. You have to let me go. Try and stay out of trouble, will you? I'll be back soon. You know you can always count on me to protect you from men.'

Keziah was confused. ‘What men? What are you saying?'

Jake knelt down and wrapped the blanket around her to keep her warm, although she didn't need it. As he kissed her the heat coursed through her. Her body could never lie.

His voice was tender, teasing. ‘You can't help yourself. Can't stop me, can you?'

Her arms locked around his neck. ‘Why on earth would I
want
to stop you?'

‘I understand you. You're a good woman but vulnerable. You
want
to be faithful.'

She sat bolt upright. ‘What are you saying? That because I betrayed Gem I'll betray you? You think Romani women are easy!'

‘No! Of course not, but you've got to admit you Romani women are different.'

‘We're passionate, but you mean
weak
, don't you? Is that what you think of
me
?'

He desperately tried to pacify her. ‘Calm down, Kez. I only meant I'll always protect you from yourself.'

‘From
myself
?' she screamed.

The flood of anger and shame she had dammed back since childhood broke free. A lifetime of
gaujo
taunts –
dirty, liar, thief, prostitute –
mixed with her personal legacy of shame as the daughter of Stella the Whore. She flayed into Jake with the strength of a madwoman. Jake blocked the whirlwind of her punches, but
baxt
landed a freak punch in his ribs. Another in his groin doubled him over in agony.

Neither of them listened to their overlapping tirade of accusations.

‘Do you think I roll over like a puppy for any man?' Keziah screamed. ‘No man touches me unless I
want
him.' Her laughter mocked him. ‘No problem with Daniel – he fancied
you
more than me!'

Jake stumbled off clutching his groin. As he mounted Horatio he yelled back over his shoulder. ‘Do me a favour. I'm sick of fighting blokes to protect you. Stay out of my hair!'

As he rode away she retaliated like an hysterical child. ‘Who needs a man who hides in a brothel?'

Her vision cleared. Nerida and the children stared open-mouthed from the
goondie
. Keziah wrapped her naked body in the blanket, trying to hold onto the last skerrick of dignity she could muster.

Hunched in the saddle, Jake disappeared over the horizon.

The distant clanging of the Ironbark Chapel bell sounded to Jake Andersen as ominous as if it heralded Doomsday.

Lying on a stretcher bed on the back veranda of Bran's forge house, he cursed the bell for fracturing his sleep, then remembered he must now learn to harness his language – Pearl was asleep in the alcove room only a few feet away.

But the truth was Jake was mortified. The Doc had strapped bandages around his chest. Although he had fought the toughest blokes in the colony with all his bones intact, that crazy Romani woman had managed to give him a cracked rib. He'd lied to Leslie Ross that his opponent had been a bullocky. There were some things a bloke couldn't admit even to his best mates.

At the thought of Keziah he felt morose. Was their fight her fault – or his? For years he had built a shield of mateship between them to protect himself from falling for her. When he finally found the courage to get her into bed it had been the greatest night in his entire life. Keziah was sheer magic. So how had the whole thing ended up cockeyed? One bloody careless word from him had sent her raving mad. As he slapped at the blowflies that were drawn to his liniment-soaked bandages, he tried to piece together exactly what
he
had said and what
she
had said. None of it made sense.

He accepted he had unwittingly damaged Keziah's pride and insulted the entire race of Romani women, but she'd ranted so wildly, he'd had no chance to unveil his big plans for them.

At the sound of Pearl's little feet padding across to the cookhouse Jake's anger was tempered by resignation.
The fight was my fault. I wasn't cut out to handle good women. And only God would know what goes on inside a Romani woman's head – if there
is
a god.

Today was the day the
vardo
would be finished. As Jake drank the tea Pearl had made him, she watched him like an anxious little mother hen. He made all the right noises of approval.

‘Best tea I've ever tasted in my entire life, Princess.'

When Pearl raced off unasked to make him a second pot, Jake again felt morose. Inwardly he decided that a door in his life had been slammed shut forever. That crazy Romani girl had done the unthinkable – left her brand on him. Jake had spent every penny of his prize money on his plan to share his life with her and their kids. Now that pipedream was totally destroyed.
I'm stuck with that bloody Romani wagon.

He saw that Bran was restless to hear Jake's verdict on his work. Pearl pulled him outside to inspect it and Jake gave a long whistle of admiration. The
vardo
was a thing of beauty – the green and gold paintwork shone in the sun. Although the travelling house had not been occupied, it already seemed to have a life of its own – eager to taste the open road. Jake clapped Bran on the back.

‘Bran, you're a ruddy genius. To think you built all this from a magazine picture!'

Jake held little Pearl by the hand as she skipped around the wagon, giggling with excitement. Bran basked in pleasure at their praise, but Jake saw that something was bothering him. It took time to piece the story together. Bran had overheard Griggs, Hobson's overseer, boasting that Mrs Browne was clearing out of Ironbark. She'd left Big Bruce in charge of the schoolhouse and was packed up ready to go.

‘Right, so she's bolting again, is she?'

Pearl looked so anxious that Jake made an effort to control his anger. He let down the back steps of the
vardo
and ceremoniously helped his daughter to enter inside. ‘You can be my first passenger, girlie.'

Pearl frowned at the edge in his voice when he added, ‘We've got business that can't wait.'

• • • 

Keziah nailed the lid on the final packing case and sank down on top of it, close to tears. The schoolteacher's cottage was empty except for her packed boxes and valise. This was the dreaded moment when she must leave behind the secure life she had lived as Saranna. She was shaken by the pain of her memories.

Stripped of its bedding, her iron bedstead was a skeletal frame. The bed where she had slept alone and dreamt her dreams. The bed where Gem had returned to stay the night with her but deserted her forever. Where she had cradled Daniel on their wedding night, bleeding from his ‘stripes' inflicted by the Devil Himself. Above all it was the bed where she and Jake had begun the magical night of love they had played out under the stars.

She felt consumed with shame for dishonouring her promise to him. If Jake came looking for her he would find another empty house, betrayed by another woman. Was she no better than Jenny Andersen? Or Stella the Whore? They were mere
gaujos
. She was a Romani woman. It was despicable to betray her Rom – even a man who was hers for only a single night.

Suddenly aware that Gabriel was waving his hands in front of her eyes to attract her attention, she patted his head. ‘I'm here, Gabriel.'

She dressed for travelling in her most sedate schoolteacher's costume and buttoned her blouse to her chin. Pulling her hair into a chignon, she covered it with the new style of bonnet made fashionable by the young Queen Victoria. Shaped like a coal scuttle tied with ribbons under the chin, it hid her hair except for the flat curls on her forehead. No visual trace remained of her true identity, except for her legacy from Stella the Whore – her eyes.

The sound of the brumby's whinny sent her racing to the door, surprised to discover it heralded Jake's arrival on foot.

‘Where's Horatio?' she asked.

Jake ignored her. His shirt was open and she blushed to see the
evidence of her attack. He swaggered up the steps as arrogantly as his bandaged chest would allow.

Propped against the veranda railing he unfolded his pouch and began to shred tobacco as if he had all the time in the world. Finally he cast a steely glance her way.

‘That's a bloody silly bonnet. Makes you look like a maiden aunt.'

‘I dress to please myself.'

His eyes issued a challenge. ‘Bran told me you're bolting. Want a lift somewhere?'

‘Thank you, no. I've made all my own arrangements.' ‘You're off to Melbourne Town to join Caleb Morgan, eh?' ‘My plans are my business.'

Jake jerked his head in the direction of Nerida's
goondie
. ‘Yeah? What about Nerida and Murphy? Just going to dump them, are you?'

Keziah felt defensive. ‘I've left Nerida money. I'll send for them when I get to wherever I end up.'

‘Never crossed your mind Nerida might want a life of her own?'

‘What do you mean? She's been happy with me.'

‘Yeah? I ran into Sunny Ah Wei. First time I ever saw the bloke look miserable. He wants to do right by Nerida. Get her churched. Take her to Maitland to open a store.'

‘I thought Nerida didn't want him!'

‘Well, now you know. She does but Nerida's too bloody loyal to leave you. Thinks you can't take care of yourself properly. She's dead right.' He turned. ‘Ain't you, Neri?'

Nerida stood waiting with Murphy to say goodbye. When Keziah ran to her, their tears were flowing as they embraced.

‘Nerida, you're the friend of my life! Choose your
own
happiness. Sunny's a good man. Go with him if you want him. I know in my heart we'll never lose touch with each other.'

‘Sunny not Wiradjuri.' Nerida looked in the direction of her tribal
country. ‘But he promise he bring me back my country plenty time.'

Keziah knew there were layers of anguish inside Nerida that no one but her own people could share.

Nerida stroked Keziah's nose in the gentle way Aboriginal mothers aroused their children from sleep. ‘Now you wake up good, Saranna. See best fella for you!'

In perfect imitation of Jake, Nerida mimicked his cocksure grin as she swaggered a few steps like a Currency Lad, then grinned at Jake over her shoulder as she walked away. Clearly Jake had won Nerida's vote. Keziah saw Jake had no intention of letting her off the hook.

‘So you were going to shoot through and leave me to find the place empty. That's what a Romani promise is worth, is it?'

‘I was trying to decide if I was brave enough to say goodbye to you.'

‘And?' Jake's eyes locked with hers sending the clear message.
You'll break before I will, girl.

Keziah finally cracked. ‘I knew once I saw you I'd never want to leave you.'