Jewel In the North Read online

  “Of course. Look out for your sisters.”

  Violet, only a few years younger than William’s twenty, gave a small nod, but Esther, who was younger again, rolled her eyes.

  Joseph raised his eyebrows in return. “Don’t give your brother any trouble, Esther.”

  “We won’t, Father.” Violet smiled sweetly and drew her sister away before she could spout forth with her usual outrage at any inference that she needed minding. At sixteen Esther was no more or less a handful than she’d been at three or seven or any time in her life.

  “You mustn’t tease her, Joseph.” Millie shook her head at him. “It only makes her dig in her heels.”

  Joseph pulled himself up and frowned at the back view of his three grown-up children disappearing in the throng making its way towards the new creamery building. “It was no joke. I meant what I said. Esther has been known to make a spectacle of herself before. Only last month outside the church she pushed that boy over.”

  “He was a young man, older than her and being obnoxious. I do believe she was defending me.”

  “You don’t need defending, do you? Surely we’ve been married long enough to cease being a curiosity.”

  Millie shook her head slowly at him. “You truly have blinkers.” Her big dark eyes, which were usually glowing with joy, were deep pools of melancholy. “We don’t come to town that often. A white man marrying a black woman will always cause a stir with some.”

  “Well, they’re not people we spend time with.”

  “But on days like this everyone is here. We can’t avoid those who don’t like us.”

  After helping her down from the cart, Joseph turned her to face him. They had both known what they were doing when they married. At home on Wildu Creek they were so happy, and Millie was usually indifferent to the snubs of others. He took her hands. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m being silly. Today I don’t have the strength to face those who look down their noses at me.” Millie’s frown softened. “I think I am tired, that’s all.

  “I am sorry, my love. You have as much right to be here as everyone else. I am sure the Garrats from the general store will be here and of course Mr Pyman from the saddlery. He has money invested in this venture I believe. They will be kind to you.”

  “I know, Joseph.” Millie slid her hands from his grasp and fiddled with her belt, pulling it in a notch to accentuate her waist. After two children she was still as slender as the day he’d met her and even more beautiful. Her thick dark hair was coiled up onto her hatless head.

  “You look beautiful, my dear.” He offered his arm and they strolled together nearer the general gathering of people, but Millie pulled him up.

  “It’s not all about you and me, Joseph.” She indicated a group of young people nearby. “It’s hard on William and the girls.”

  Joseph looked to where his son stood with Violet and Esther, talking to several friends from Hawker. He knew his children loved Millie but he understood what she meant.

  “I’m worried about our young ones,” Millie said. “This new law that’s talked of that allows the Protector of Aborigines to remove children of mixed blood from their parents terrifies me.”

  Joseph grabbed her hands and gave her arms a gentle shake. “It’s not law yet and anyway, no-one is going to take our children from us, Millie.” He bent to kiss her lips. “No-one.”

  Her eyes locked with his and Joseph gave a firm nod of his head in return. It was the children of poor misfortunates unable to look after them who would be taken. Not well-cared-for and loved children like his own. Millie was feeling unease at being in such a big crowd, that was all. He looked around.

  A murmur and shuffle from the crowd — a group was walking towards the front of the creamery building, led by Henry Wiltshire. Speaking of the devil, Henry was one of those dogmatic people who judged by the colour of a person’s skin or the amount of money they had.

  Millie fussed at the buttons of the white lace shirt she wore beneath a simple deep brown jacket.

  “You look perfect, Millie.” He kissed her on the nose.

  She giggled and he grinned back.

  He took her arm again. “Let’s go and see this tomfoolery of a creamery for ourselves. I’d be happy to eat my words but I can’t see it being a success in this country.”

  William and the girls stayed with their friends while Joseph and Millie made their way to the front door. Inside the building was congested but the crowd parted for them. Joseph heard someone hiss. He gripped Millie’s hand tightly. He was relieved when Mabel Garrat saw them and beckoned them closer.

  “Hello.” The older woman smiled, her big round face lit up with welcome. “I thought you’d gone home.”

  “We decided to stay on for the festivities,” Joseph said. “We will leave as soon as the official proceedings are over.”

  “What a turnout.” Tom Garrat shook Joseph’s hand and tipped his hat at Millie. “Looks like everyone from the district is here. No customers left in town so we closed the shop to come out for a gander.”

  “Will you be stocking their cream?” Millie asked.

  “Unlikely.” Mabel gave a snort. “Mr High and Mighty over there.” She gestured towards the machinery where Henry was pointing out features to a group gathered in close. “He will be stocking his own cream I am sure and he won’t be letting us have any. We’re his best competition.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” The local publican used his booming voice to gain everyone’s attention. The crowd inside the creamery began to settle and quieten and more pushed in from outside. Those who couldn’t fit huddled close to fend off the chill of the afternoon.

  “At least it’s warm with everyone in together.” Mabel tugged her jacket closer. “What a cold May day it is.”

  “There must be at least two hundred or more here,” Joseph murmured.

  “You have to be impressed.” Millie gave him a nudge. “Anyway it’s not just about Henry Wiltshire. He has Mr Button and Mr Pyman as partners in this enterprise, doesn’t he? They are sensible gentlemen.”

  “I would have said so until they threw their lot in with Wiltshire.”

  Once more their attention was drawn back to the machinery, which began to whir to life. There were murmurs of awe from the crowd as the first gallons of milk surged through the pipes and into the separator.

  Henry felt fit to burst with pride. The cream production had impressed the large crowd enough that they gave three rousing cheers at the publican’s prompting. Mr Foster, one of their local members, gave a stirring speech, which was followed by another three cheers and then Mr Button spoke on behalf of the three proprietors. Henry revelled in the opportunity to be seen standing beside the two parliamentarians.

  He looked from one to the other. “Now that the official ceremonies are over can we offer you a cup of tea, gentlemen?”

  “That would be most welcome,” Burgoyne replied.

  “I’d like to mingle if you don’t mind,” Foster said. “There are a couple of other locals I would like to speak with while I have the opportunity.”

  Henry felt a little deflated; Foster set off through the crowd, his stride confident, as if he had already set eyes on someone. Henry turned back to Burgoyne and gave him a broad smile. “Shall we go this way?” He pointed towards the door closest to the refreshment tent that had been set up outside.

  “Mr Baker?”

  Joseph turned. Mr Foster stood before him. A distinguished-looking man with a thick moustache that turned up at each end, he was a few years Joseph’s junior.

  “I am Joseph Baker.”

  Foster held out his hand. “I’ve been hearing good things about you, Mr Baker.”

  Joseph was encouraged by the politician’s words, but he knew Millie wouldn’t enjoy the closer attention they were now receiving from others around them. He put his arm around her and drew her close. “This is my wife, Millie, and three of my children, William, Violet and Esther.”

  Foster shook everyone
’s hand. “A fine family.”

  “I have three more children at home.”

  “No doubt they are a blessing to you, Mr Baker.” He smiled once more in Millie’s direction then turned back to Joseph. “I don’t want to monopolise your time but I’ve been hearing good reports about your sheep-breeding exploits.”

  “Have you indeed?” Joseph was surprised but more than a little proud to be singled out by Foster, who was by report energetic and dedicated in his work.

  “I would like to know more.”

  “Perhaps the girls and I can take some tea while you discuss business.” Millie smiled but Joseph could see the uncertainty in her eyes. Nevertheless the three set off, and Joseph turned back to Foster as William stepped closer.

  “What would you like to know, Mr Foster? William is proving a most reliable support and my father, Thomas Baker, is also part of our endeavour.”

  “Your mutton is well recommended, Baker, along with your wool. I was hoping to interest you in the freezing machinery the government has built at Port Adelaide, along with the establishment of a produce depot and agency in London.”

  “The demand for our meat is strong in South Australia.”

  “I am sure but we are already exporting poultry, pork and even rabbits. I mentioned the interest in butter that comes from this region. The sweet herbage of the area improves the flavour, as it does the flavour of your meat.”

  Joseph looked from Foster to William, who had moved closer, then back again. “Do tell us more, Mr Foster.”

  Henry glared at Joseph Baker from his position near the creamery main door. Baker was in deep conversation with Mr Foster. Henry couldn’t imagine what they would have in common. He’d seen the way Foster had greeted Baker’s wife — no doubt as a member of parliament he had to be polite. The locals had no such scruples. Henry shifted his gaze to where Millie Baker and her stepdaughters were approaching the refreshment tent. Several people stepped back, parting a way for them.

  “They should not be encouraged to spend time with decent white folk,” he muttered.

  “I assume by ‘they’ you are referring to the Bakers.” Catherine looked at her husband with a steady gaze. “Why does it bother you so, Henry? Millie Baker appears to be a well-mannered woman, who dresses suitably and keeps a fine house from what I’ve heard.”

  “She’s still a black woman and her children are mixed breed. I’ve noticed more and more of such people about town as well as full-blood natives.”

  “Surely if they have money …” Catherine paused and gave him a superior smile. “They are entitled to spend it the same as anyone else.”

  “Entitled.” Henry huffed. She knew very well the Bakers were some of the most well-off people in the district. His fingers curled into his palms. Most of the other natives weren’t so comfortable. “It only gives them excuses to linger.”

  “Father’s right.” Charles joined the conversation. “Mr Garrat allows natives in his shop and they’re often standing about out the front as well.”

  “Passing the time of day with their friends.” Catherine looked from her son to her husband. “In a similar way to anyone else in town.”

  Henry glared at her. She had always held a weakness for the down and out but she had never openly contradicted him. “We will not discuss this here.” He turned to Charles. “Go with your mother to get some refreshments.”

  Catherine gave a barely audible sigh but she said no more and took her son’s arm.

  Henry leaned in to the boy’s other ear. “And make sure she ends up nowhere near that woman of Baker’s.”

  Joseph shook Mr Foster’s hand and watched as the man moved on to speak with someone else. “I think we should have a cup of tea to warm our bones before we go.” Joseph rubbed his hands together. “Millie and the girls have theirs.”

  They set off together towards the refreshment tent. William glanced around as they walked.

  “Looking for someone?” Joseph asked.

  William’s cheeks had a pink glow. “Not in particular.”

  “I believe the Prossers are away.”

  William pulled up and gave his father a penetrating look. “Who said I was looking for them?”

  Joseph grinned. William was smitten by Georgina Prosser, their nearest neighbour. They all knew it, as much as he tried to hide it.

  “What do you think about Mr Foster’s suggestion, Father?” William changed the subject.

  “It’s certainly worth considering.”

  “You don’t sound eager.”

  Joseph looked into his son’s bright eyes. William had hung on Foster’s every word. “Mr Foster has given us much to think about.”

  Suddenly Henry Wiltshire stepped in front of him.

  “How dare you come to this public event and bring your … your woman with you.”

  Joseph gaped at Henry. The man was not his friend but he was thrown by the open hatred etched on his face. Henry’s son Charles stepped in beside his father, a similar glower furrowing his young face. Joseph glanced around. Thankfully they were a small distance from the nearest people and, he hoped, out of earshot. He locked his gaze back on Henry.

  “My wife and I are interested in your venture.” Joseph couldn’t help but lift his lips in a smile. Henry had gone quite red in the face with indignation. “The same as the rest of the district.”

  “You’re not welcome here,” Henry hissed. “You and your …” He flicked his gaze over William. “… tribe.”

  Joseph ignored the barb. “There was an open invitation in Hawker for all to see.”

  “An open invitation for decent people. It’s distressing for sensitive people. I don’t want my wife upset. And how dare you collar the local member? He’s a generous man but he would not want to be involved in your sordid family affairs.”

  Joseph drew himself up. “Mr Foster is a sensible man who sought me out for my opinion on farming matters.”

  “What?” Henry snorted. “That’s preposterous.”

  Charles mimicked his father and beside him, Joseph could sense William’s anger. There was no point in continuing. He wasn’t in the mood for Henry’s open antagonism and he didn’t want to cause a scene that would only distress Millie. “We’re leaving now anyway. I’ve seen enough of this foolhardy scheme of yours.”

  “Foolhardy, is it?” Henry’s voice rose a little and those nearby looked at them. “We will be supplying cream to the district and the rest of South Australia, and then butter. We’ll see who’s foolhardy then, Baker.”

  Joseph didn’t bother to reply. “Come on, William.” He moved off in Millie’s direction.

  From nearby came the sound of happy laughter. Joseph glanced across to where Catherine Wiltshire was being told some kind of joke by the two visiting MPs. Mrs Wiltshire’s eyes were bright and her cheeks were rosy.

  So much for being upset, Joseph thought.

  Two

  April 1896

  The night was still but for the crackle of the campfire, the occasional snort of a horse and the murmur of voices. Four men huddled around the flames, their hands stretched to the warmth while their backs felt the chill of the cold night through their coats. Overhead the clear sky was scattered with a million stars and in the east a full moon was sending its glow over the hills, a promise of the silver light to follow.

  “It’s good to have made home ground tonight.” Joseph clapped William on the shoulder and nodded across the fire to his father, Thomas, and his friend Binda. “I have to admit I’ve had concerns about this cattle venture but a month of droving has done us all good.”

  Thomas lifted one cheek of his aching backside from the log he was using for a seat and gave it a vigorous rub. “This was not the way I had planned to celebrate my birthday.”

  Joseph shook his head. “I told you to stay home. Timothy or Hegarty could have come.”

  “I might be feeling every one of my seventy-year-old bones.” Thomas straightened his back. “But I wouldn’t have missed this. It’s a whi
le since I went on a droving run.” He looked at his grandson. “I’m grateful for the opportunity to be out here working with my family. This will be a new venture for the Baker clan.”

  William’s weary gaze met his grandfather’s. “I’m glad you’re here. And I’m grateful you both agreed to take on cattle.”

  “It makes sense.” Thomas opened and closed his hands, stretching his gnarled fingers. “I’ve always been a sheep man but I only learned about them when I was your age. You have plenty of time to learn about cattle.”

  “The country here at Smith’s Ridge is better suited to cattle. Sheep only do well on here in plentiful times,” Joseph said. “But I can’t see us having anything but sheep at Wildu Creek.”

  “Your breeding program has produced a fine breed of sheep suited to the conditions.” Thomas looked to William. “I’m sure you will work as hard with the cattle.”

  “I hope to, Grandpa.” His eyes shone in the firelight.

  “Time will tell.” Joseph stretched and yawned. “Thank goodness we’re home. I’ve been a long time with my backside in the saddle.”

  William nudged his father. “Cattle aren’t to be rushed.”

  Joseph gave him a nudge back. “I see you think you’re the expert now after only four weeks of owning these animals.”

  “I’ve learned a lot at Prosser’s Run.”

  Thomas noted the good-natured smile slip from Joseph’s face. They’d all been surprised when William had suggested they take on cattle at Smith’s Ridge, but after much discussion and research they’d decided it could be a useful diversification. Joseph had not been able to hide his displeasure when his oldest son had also proposed learning about the beasts from his offensive neighbour, Ellis Prosser.

  “Times change.” Thomas met Joseph’s sour look across the fire. “Forty-five years ago your mother’s brothers and I brought the first sheep to Smith’s Ridge. So much has happened since then and yet that which is most precious to me is here … family.” He looked from his son to his grandson and then to the native man sitting beside him. Binda was only a little older than Joseph and had been part of their lives since he saved Joseph’s life as a teenager. “That includes you, Binda.”