Chapters (53)
- Cover
- About Alison Stuart
- Also by Alison Stuart
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgements
- Preview of The Goldminer's Sister
An old miner had described to Adelaide how they used an amalgam of mercury to gather in the grains of gold dust from the stampers. Now that same quicksilver ran in her veins, gathering every gentle word and soft embrace and the touch of Caleb’s lips until the sensation became a shimmering light that swelled in her heart.
When he kissed her, it felt like her breath stopped in her throat and even her heart paused its beating. Every sense was heightened. The distant voices from the mine on the far side of the ridge, the chime of the bellbirds and the cackle of parrots, the rasp of Danny’s gold pan in the creek, the scent of the man who held her in his arms—sandalwood, soap and the musky scent of horse—and the strong lips on hers, dry from the heat and the ride but as sweet as a summer strawberry, sending shards of fire coursing through her body.
‘Mama?’
Danny’s voice jerked Adelaide out of her reverie as she sat at the dinner table. In the kitchen, Netty clattered saucepans as she prepared pudding.
He looked at his mother’s uneaten boiled mutton. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’
Adelaide picked up a piece of carrot with her fork. Her meal had gone cold while she daydreamed.
Danny regarded her from under his fringe of blond hair. ‘Do you like Caleb, Mama?’
‘Of course I do,’ she said. ‘Do you?’
Danny ignored the question. ‘I mean, really like him,’ he persisted.
Adelaide sniffed, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks. ‘Don’t be impertinent.’
Danny grinned at her. ‘I like him.’
‘Liking someone is not enough, Danny.’
‘But I saw him kiss you,’ Danny said with a cheeky smile. ‘Does that mean you have to get married now?’
‘Enough, Danny. It is none of your concern,’ she snapped.
Danny grinned. ‘I think it might be,’ he mumbled as he stuffed potato into his mouth.
Twenty
Twenty
3 February 1872
Caleb had learned that whenever Sergeant Maidment summoned him to the police station, the news would not be good. His unease deepened when he saw Osborne Russell seated in the sergeant’s office.
Russell handed him a telegram without a word.
SUSPICIOUS DEATH SHADY CREEK. NAME OF DECEASED ALFRED BOWEN. COME URGENTLY. DOCTOR, MAGISTRATE AND POLICE SERGEANT REQUIRED.
Caleb handed the telegram back to Russell. ‘Surely this is a mistake?’
Neither the policeman nor the bank manager answered.
‘He was a friend,’ Caleb said, the tendrils of loss and grief constricting his heart.
The lines on the bank manager’s face deepened as he nodded. ‘Poor man. I can’t see what would be suspicious about his death, though. He was not in the best of health.’
‘What do you mean?’
Russell and Maidment exchanged glances. ‘It could hardly have escaped your attention, Hunt. The man was an alcoholic.’
‘You’re right, but I would not have said he was on death’s door.’