A Changing Land(138)
‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered.’ The unmistakeable figure of his father was thrown into relief against the white-washed mud brick of Crawford’s homestead. He was moving slowly, edging along the side of the building. ‘Damn him, what the hell does he think he’s doing?’ Luke let out a low groan as his father disappeared through a window. Luke blinked twice in disbelief and then, crouching low, began to run towards the homestead.
Closing the window Hamish lifted his rifle, hoping it was dry enough for action. If not he had a nulla-nulla jammed through his belt. If he were accused of the crime, Crawford would ensure he was jailed. Unable to rely on Luke to safeguard Wangallon until Angus came of age left Wangallon at the mercy of any number of prospective buyers, including Crawford. He walked across the polished floorboards, his injured leg was weakening and the blood loss had not lessened. Through the partially opened door he looked down a long hallway to where a black stockman was standing with William Crawford, his father and Wetherly.
‘Damn nuisance that magistrate, telling me to leave it in the hands of the police. Time was when a man’s word was good enough. By the time they catch up with the mob they’ll probably be mixed up with a thousand of Gordon’s. Wants proof, he says, before we can charge the likes of Hamish Gordon. Tells me he’s in receipt of a letter of complaint from Gordon about that damn water business last year. Warns me, me, to ensure my own doings are without tarnish. I’ve a mind to ride out there myself, confront Gordon and take him into Wangallon Town myself.’
‘Mebbe he’s dead,’ the stockman announced.
‘And maybe not,’ Oscar yelled. ‘Just because you find a man’s horse drowned doesn’t mean he’s dead.’
‘He was speared, Father,’ William reminded him, ‘and not by our men. Some renegade savage had the pleasure.’
Oscar brushed worried fingers through his hair, ‘True, true. I should never have got the magistrate involved. Should have handled matters myself,’ he mumbled. ‘Anyway, at least it’s a spear. We can’t be held accountable for that.’
‘I wonder if I could impose on you for payment,’ Wetherly enquired.
‘Payment? Yes, of course payment. You had better make yourself scarce, Wetherly. Here.’ Crawford shook hands and Wetherly deposited a sum of money in his coat pocket, walked briskly to his horse and galloped off.
‘Now, you lads go about your normal business and we’ll see what transpires.’
William and the stockman walked out onto the verandah. A few minutes later Hamish heard horses trotting down the dirt path, then the room began to spin. He clutched at his wound, waiting for the dizziness to pass, his rifle sliding to the floor so that the wooden butt struck the boards noisily. In an instant the door was flung wide.
‘So you come to us, Gordon.’ Oscar looked considerably pleased with himself. ‘You’re not exactly dressed for a visitation, old man.’ He confiscated the rifle. ‘Had a bit of a night of it, haven’t we? I must say I find it interesting the way you manage your affairs.’
Hamish leant against the doorframe for support. ‘You’ve no need to concern yourself with that.’
Oscar laughed, ‘Oh, but I do. Some years ago it was common knowledge you were sleeping with the blacks, under your own roof no less,’ Oscar tutted. ‘Not really the gentlemanly thing. But now I hear you were speared by one.’
Hamish winced at the pain that crept through him. ‘Only because your men couldn’t get to me first.’
Oscar coloured. ‘That is an unprovable accusation, while the theft of my cattle is easy to verify.’
‘You have no proof,’ Hamish was beginning to feel feverish, although his clothes were still damp. ‘Although I do have proof that my cattle, fifty head or more, have been wandering on your land since well before Christmas,’ Hamish lied smoothly. ‘I have also informed the relevant authorities about the diversion of the drain.’
‘A clever tactic, I’ll grant you that, Gordon. It will not help you though. My trackers will have your men rounded up before the police arrive.’
Hamish laughed. ‘And my men will tell the constabulary that marauding blacks herded your escaped cattle onto my land.’
Crawford spluttered. ‘The thing is, Gordon, your reputation condemns you. Especially now you are wounded and standing here in my house uninvited. I know of your early dealings in Ridge Gully, of the pedigree of your first wife’s family.’