else more pleasant to go to.
‘I’ve had the most terrible time of it,’ Lauren sniffed. ‘I came out to join you specially and then, then,’ she gave a little hiccup, ‘I got lost. You wouldn’t have a little water to spare?’ She asked demurely. She accepted the waterbag and, taking two great gulps, was about to swipe her arm across her face when she stopped and dabbed politely at her chin.
The herd of cattle was about half a mile from them. Lauren covered her nose as the wind changed direction and blew sheets of dirt across them. ‘You look like you’ve been up half the night.’ Lauren patted McKenzie on the arm. ‘It’s good to see you.’
McKenzie scratched his head, the action tilting his wide-brimmed hat. ‘I can’t take you back to the homestead, Lauren. Mr Gordon’s given us a job to do. Besides, we’re already two men down, what with Wetherly and Mungo pissing off into the wind. Wetherly never showed and Mungo reckoned he was bringing a cook from the black’s camp but he came back empty-handed and then pissed off. Not that I can’t handle it.’
Like all this meant anything to her. Lauren batted her eyelids. Wasn’t it clear she was in distress?
‘You’ll have to come with us.’
‘What, with that raggedly mob of blacks and a bunch of cows?’
McKenzie pushed his hat back on firmly. ‘That mob is the best herd of beef this side of the mountains.’ He looked at her nag. ‘So you can stay here and die or,’ he gave a crooked smile, ‘you can come with me as my woman. I’ll tell the men we’re married and they’ll see right by you.’
Lauren kicked at a stick lying in the dirt – so much for the big house.
He handed her a tortoiseshell hair comb.
‘Oh McKenzie, it’s beautiful.’
McKenzie unhooked the horse from the dray, tying the reins to his chestnut mare. ‘Got it off Mungo. Said I should give it to Mr Luke and tell ’em that he knew, something like that. Reckoned you’d like it better.’
‘Where are we going?’
Hooking his arm under hers, he pulled her up onto his horse. ‘Sydney.’
Lauren wrapped her arms tightly about his waist and pressed her cheek to the back of his shirt. ‘Ohhh, sounds lovely.’ She never had gone much on Luke Gordon.
McKenzie trotted his horse towards the herd, leading the dray behind him. ‘There’s someone I want you to meet. His name’s Jasperson.’
Hamish broke off some branches, peering through the dense foliage. He couldn’t recall his escape from the river’s currents nor how he’d arrived at this hole of bushy camouflage. His hands were ripped and bleeding, suggesting he’d clawed his way into hiding. There was pain throughout his body, shoulders, back, head and leg. With a gasp he leant against a gnarled tree trunk and surveyed his leg. The shaft of the spear was broken neatly about one handspan out from his flesh. In frustration he bashed his head against the tree trunk behind him, cursing Crawford for his artfully arranged, ambush. It was likely his men had been captured, even killed in last night’s skirmish. He hoped no one had been recognised for that was the prime method of conviction.
Either way he had to presume the worst. Pulling his pocket-knife free of the pouch on his belt, Hamish placed a stick between his teeth and began to slowly prise at the flesh of his thigh. He made two straight cuts, grimacing through the pain, and then grasped the shaft of the spear and pulled it free. Blood gushed from the wound. Spitting the twig free of his mouth, he ripped a length of material from his shirt tail and did his best to tie something of a bandage. Pain radiated through his leg. There was precious little time to salvage his failed plan and there was only one way to do it.
The snapping of twigs halted his ministrations. He pulled back from the noise, his shape merging with the shadowy trees. Hearing the lone whinny, Hamish stuck his head out from amid his bushy cover – the horse was riderless. He staggered over to the rangy brown mare and, coaxing her softly, dragged his body onto the saddle. There was a bloody nulla-nulla, a waterbag and a spray of dried blood patterning down the horse’s girth. Hamish drank thirstily and walked the horse along the edge of the riverbank. The signs of the cattle’s crossing were obvious. Hamish hoped the herd was well away.
About a