Esty's Gold by Mary Arrigan

Author:Mary Arrigan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MBI
Published: 2011-05-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

I must have fallen asleep under the tree, because it was almost dawn when Grandpa nudged me.

‘Horses,’ he whispered, getting to his feet. It took me a moment to wake up – my dreams had been dark and disjointed.

Grandpa clutched my arm and pulled me into the sheltering shadows. His grip became tighter as the hoofbeats drew nearer. We could see that the others had heard them too. John Joe and Adam had slipped out of the tent they shared and lay on the ground. Mama’s face appeared, white and frightened, at the opening of our tent. She probably hadn’t slept all night.

‘Ho!’ a voice called out. ‘We’re back.’

Grandpa’s grip relaxed. ‘Thank God,’ he whispered.

The six men dismounted and approached Grandpa and me. ‘Any sign of trouble?’ Grandpa asked anxiously. Peter Lalor shook his head. In the dying light of the fire I could see his dusty, worn-out face. ‘Nothing,’ he replied, as he tethered his horse to the tree. ‘They’re a slippery lot, those bushrangers. They could be anywhere.’

His words made me shiver. Had we come this far, only to battle with dangerous criminals who’d think nothing of killing us for our paltry possessions?

‘We’ll stay here with you for the rest of the night,’ said Peter Lalor. ‘In the morning we’ll ride alongside for a while.’

‘Oh, that would be good,’ Grandpa said with a sigh. We settled back under the tree as the men unrolled blankets from their saddles and spread them out near the fire, keeping their rifles beside them. I envied the way they lay down and went straight to sleep.

‘We’ll be all right now, Esty,’ said Grandpa. ‘Why don’t you go back and get some sleep, girl.’

‘No, Grandpa,’ I said. ‘This is where I want to be.’

He shook his head. ‘You’re an impossible little madam,’ he said.

‘Good,’ I laughed. ‘An impossible little madam has a better chance of survival here.’

Next morning, everyone was in high spirits. The presence of Peter and his men made us feel safe and eased the tension that had made us all feel so edgy of late. Mrs Baker produced another salted leg of lamb and sliced it expertly with a butcher’s knife. Mama fried some potatoes and onions, and we sliced and handed around one of our precious loaves. But we’d have given these men anything, we were so pleased to have them with us.

When we loaded up, they rode with us. Peter chatted with Grandpa as he cantered beside us. As for me, I rolled into the back of the cart and dozed. Lately, Mama had taken to sitting up with Mrs Baker in her wagon. May was walking with John Joe. It was reassuring to hear her giggling.

When I awoke, I was surprised at the silence. I crept to the front of the cart. John Joe had taken over the reins from Grandpa.

‘He’s sleeping in the Bakers’ wagon,’ he said, before I’d even asked. ‘He’s exhausted. An amazing man, your grandpa. I’d trust that man with my life.’

‘You already have,’ I said.

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