Daring Masquerade (9 page)

After breakfast the men set off again, leaving Harry to her own devices, just the way she wanted it. Less dangerous that way.

In the burning heat, the temptation to take the waistcoat off was almost beyond endurance, but she dared not in case Ross returned. A damp shirt clinging to her body would be a dead giveaway.

Gil caught up with her mid-afternoon. He handed over some butter wrapped in a damp cloth, several loaves of bread, some fruit and vegetables. They were all set to eat well tonight.

"Here." He handed over a bag of sweets. "I bought these for you, and a couple of newspapers." His grin took away the haunting sadness in his eyes.

"Thanks! You're in a good mood."

"Jack and I had a counter lunch at the pub washed down with a couple of cold beers. Did you know half of Devil's Ridge belonged to him once?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, signed over his share to Ross and his brother before the war. Ross owns the lot now. I don't think Jack's short of money either. He's got other investments."

"I'm not surprised. Wealth is written all over them."

That evening food was abundant, their plates piled high with bacon and eggs, vegetables and fresh bread thickly spread with butter.

"Eat up everything," Ross instructed. "What we don't eat at breakfast tomorrow will have to be thrown out. Won't keep long in this heat."

Those not watching the cattle lounged around the fire yarning, drinking tea or smoking. The friendly camaraderie suited her. It was the best night she had spent for ages. Ross read one of the newspapers he had brought back from town, Gil the other.

"The war isn't going too well," Ross remarked to no-one in particular. "I don't know what those bloody English generals are doing. They're squandering men."

"No! No!" Gil's anguished cry rent the night air with a terrifying shrillness.

"What the hell." Ross tossed his paper to one side and leapt to his feet, but Harry was even quicker. She dashed over to Gil who knelt on the ground, shaking and sobbing, his arms stretched skywards pleading with God. Tears poured down his cheeks. It was a blood chilling moment. If she lived to be a hundred she would never forget the sound and sight of his torture.

"What is it?" She grabbed his hand. Icy cold. "What's the matter?"

He couldn't speak; he was simply beyond it, just moaned as if in agony.

"The paper," Jack said. "He's read something in the paper."

"Get a grip on yourself, boy," Ross instructed. "What's wrong?"

"I have to go back now."

"Back? Where?" Harry asked fearfully. "Where do you have to go, Gil?"

"To my mates. I have to go back. They're all gone now." Tears rolled down his cheeks, his whole body shuddered and convulsed as he staggered to his feet.

"For God's sake," Ross tried to steady him. "What are you raving about?"

"Gil, please, what is it? Talk to me. It's Harry."

He ignored her and pushed Ross' hand away, staggered a few steps to a fallen log and collapsed in a shivering heap.

Harry raced towards him, but Ross grabbed hold of her arm.

She wrenched herself away from him. "Gil please, you're frightening me."

He didn't answer.

"Gil. Gil." She beat at his chest. "It's Harry."

"Out of the way." Ross pushed her to one side. "Private Martin." He towered above the stricken figure. "Private Martin." He raised his voice. "Stand up when an officer addresses you."

She pushed a fist into her mouth to capture her distraught moans before they escaped. Tears scalded the back of her eyes, burning with the intensity of fire as Gil slowly, dazedly, stumbled to his feet.

"Now, Private Martin, I want you to tell me what is going on."

Harry stared into her brother's eyes. They belonged to a stranger.
    

"Jack's dead. Died of wounds in Egypt."

"Jack?"

"His mate. The one with the eight sisters," Harry explained. "Five of them enlisted together, now Gil's the only one left."

"Stay with him."

Ross dashed over to his saddlebag and snatched up a brandy flask. He sloshed some into a mug and brought it over.

"Here, drink this." He put the mug in Gil's trembling hand and guided it to his mouth. "Drink all of it. Now, Harry, stay with him. I've got some of that medicine from my doctor friend. Jack, get him a cup of tea will you?"

Harry helped Gil to their bedding under the wagon and lay next to him. Within half an hour the draught took effect and he slept. She crawled out from under the wagon and trudged over to the fire.

"Right," Ross said. "When we get to the railhead, you're to get medical attention for your brother."

"Yes. Thanks for helping him."

"If he has another bad turn, I'll be taking him to the nearest town myself, you understand? Your brother is becoming a liability I can't afford."

"Ross, for God's sake," Jack interjected.

"Stay out of this. He's too big a risk to himself and the other men. I'm not prepared to take a chance on him if he has another bad turn. He could get someone killed."

Harry felt the color wash out of her face and neck. Fear chilled the blood in her veins and drained the warmth from her body, leaving her icy cold. Her feet froze to the ground as a terrible paralysis overtook her. She couldn't blame Ross, not really. He had his other men to consider as well as the cattle.

Jack handed her a mug of tea. She took a couple of hasty gulps and the scalding liquid thawed her out enough to stumble over to the fire. Tears welled up in her eyes but she dared not let them fall. What would become of them now? She would probably end up working as a maid for horrible people like her previous employer the Littlejohns. And the authorities would lock poor Gil away in the insane asylum. Please, God. Make him well again.

"He'll be all right, boy." Jack didn't sound convincing. "With a good night's sleep and a slug of that medicine, you'll see. Try and get some rest. We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

Gil came to breakfast next morning looking pale and subdued, but as Harry hovered over him like an anxious mother hen, he gave a wan smile.

"Sorry about last night. It was the shock. They're all gone now. I've no mates left."

"I'm sorry." Harry squeezed his hand. "They wouldn't want you to be sad. You enjoyed a lot of good times with them, remember?"

"Your brother is right," Jack agreed. "You've had good mates, something a lot of men never have. Be grateful for the time you did share with them." He stood up and walked away. "Bloody war." Harry heard him mutter. "Bloody rotten war."

After the men returned to the cattle, Harry packed up the wagon, poured water on the fire and kicked dirt over the ashes to make sure there were no sparks left to ignite if the wind sprang up.

Three hours of steady riding had them leaving the plains. She watched the landscape change. A forest of ancient gums stretched skywards and the vines woven between them formed a canopy blocking out the sun. It was so shadowy and oppressive she couldn't wait to get out into the light again.

She was a couple of miles ahead of the herd, making good progress. Finally, the forest ended. When she came out into the sunlight, the sudden heat hit her like that from an open oven door. Following the directions Ross had supplied, she journeyed onwards into the scrubland for a few miles. Suddenly, in the distance, she heard the roar of water tumbling over rocks. This must be the waterfall he mentioned. Not much further now, thank goodness.

Though hot and tired, she had to set up camp for the night and prepared the evening meal. The river bank fell steeply, but a little further on Ross said the bush opened up into a clearing. Plenty of places here for the cattle to go down for a drink.

She lit the fire, mixed up damper and buried it in the coals to cook, likewise potatoes in their jackets, great heaps of them. Opening several cans of beans, she placed them in a pan and covered it with a piece of clean cloth to keep the flies away. Only then did she unhitch the horse and tether it in the shade with a nosebag full of oats. Later, she would take it down for a drink.

The crystal clear river water numbed her fingers as she filled up the tins. It was tempting to jump into the water for a swim but she dared not in case Ross or some of the men caught her by surprise. She splashed water over her face and hands, reveling in the chill. With a dampened piece of towel she quickly washed as much of her body as possible. Ross' comment about being smelly rankled, as she had always been particular about personal cleanliness.

Once this masquerade ended, the first thing she would do was take a long, luxurious bath with scented soap and soft, fluffy towels. How she would be able to afford these items she had no idea, but she would find them somehow.

By the time the men rode into camp, the sun had started to sink like a crimson ball on the horizon, its dying rays making the mountains seem to be leaching blood. Man and beast were sweat-stained and weary. She handed out mugs of sweet, black tea and watched as the men gulped the contents and held their cups out for a refill.

"Food won't be long," she told Ross, filling up his mug for a second time.

"Good. We'll get the cattle settled down and see to the horses before we eat. Keep an eye on your brother when he comes in. He's been acting strangely."

"How? Where is he?" She tried to dampen down her panic and not let Ross see how worried she was about Gil's mental state. It had deteriorated over the last couple of days, and if he found out how bad her brother really was, he would send them away.

"With Jack."

"Could Gil and I sleep under the wagon?"

"Yes, if you like." He sauntered off.

A worried Jack dashed up to her. "Your brother's gone all strange like," he said, taking the mug she handed him.

"Where is he? I thought you were together."

"He decided to take a walk along the river before eating."

Harry started dishing up the food, and still Gil didn't turn up. With determination dredged from some unknown inner source, she stoically continued ladling the food out until every man had a full plate. "I'll just go and find Gil." She darted away before anyone could stop her.

Where would he go? She started down the track leading to a stretch of sand. This was the most likely place for him to come.

He was not there, but his footprints stood out clearly in the wet sand at the edge of the water. As she followed them, her worry escalated. "Gil." No reply came, except for the incessant noise of cicadas and birds calling out to each other. "Gil." But only a bull-frog croaking from a lump of nearby reeds replied.

She ran. The roaring of the water drowned out any other sound as it churned and foamed furiously on reaching the falls. She glanced upwards. High above the wet, mossy rocks a jagged ledge beetled overhead. Here the water cascaded madly, whirling and crashing on to the rocks in a frenzy. On top of the cliff, silhouetted against the bloodstained mountains, a figure stood with his arms raised above his head.

"Gil," she screamed. "No! No!" She leapt into the water.

The current swirled around like a whirlpool, knocking her off her feet. She came up spluttering just in time to see her brother take a swallow dive over the waterfall.

She screamed. Couldn't stop screaming.

Her instinct for survival must have kicked in and as she struggled towards the bank, Ross and Jack raced towards her. They dragged her out of the river and on to the sand.

"Gil's gone over the waterfall," she cried. "Over the waterfall."

"Get him back to camp and out of those wet clothes, Jack. I'll see if there's anything I can do here."

Ross marched off, and Jack half-carried, half-dragged Harry back to camp and laid her by the fire.

"I want Gil. I want Gil." She sobbed, screamed and fought to get up. She managed to get to her knees then vomited copious amounts of river water.

One of the men handed her a mug of tea while another brought over some blankets.

A white-faced Ross arrived on the scene. "Eat your meal, men, and see to the cattle."

They dispersed silently.

"I couldn't find any trace of him." He answered Jack's unspoken query. "There are underwater caves and caverns all up and down the river. I doubt if he'll ever be found."

Harry lay on the ground, beyond caring what happened now. Gil was dead. Her brave, wonderful brother gone, and nothing or no one could ever replace him. No more would they roam the bush together, or ride like the wind across the plains. The Turkish soldiers on Gallipoli could not kill him, but he threw his life away in the land that he loved.

You're meeting your mates sooner than you expected, Gil.

"God Almighty." Through a mist of pain and grief she heard Jack's shocked exclamation, and felt him hurriedly pulling her shirt ends together.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ross swore. "I told you to get those wet clothes off the boy."

Ross squatted down beside them. Elbowing Jack out of the way, he grasped the shirt.

"Harry's a..."

"Jesus Christ." Ross spat the savage expletive.

"Girl." Jack backed away.

"I'm not bloody blind."

Her small, firm breasts were tipped with rosy peaks, the skin flawless, smooth as porcelain. His hands trembled as he pulled the shirt ends together. All the peculiarities in Harry's behavior became clear. It was almost a relief to know the strange feelings of attraction he experienced were entirely normal. Why the hell hadn't it dawned on him sooner?

He stared into her tear-drenched eyes, dark with pain and loss, but anger overrode his pity. "You lying, conniving, little bitch. I ought to break your bloody neck."

"For God's sake." Jack interrupted the flow of angry words. "You have to get her out of those wet clothes before she catches pneumonia."

"Why should I care what happens to her? She's been lying to us for weeks. What if it gets out about her being with us like this? God Almighty."

"Worry about the proprieties later."

"All right." He tried to control his rage. "Hand me another blanket and make sure the others stay away. Send half the men downstream to see if they can locate the body. The rest can see to the cattle. You'll have to take charge until I work out what to do. We'll have to report it to the authorities."