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
‘Was Bowen ill when he set out for Melbourne?’ Maidment asked.
Caleb shook his head. ‘The trouble with drinkers like Bowen is they can hide their true condition.’
Russell steepled his fingers. ‘Practicalities, gentlemen. What about his family?’
‘He mentioned a sister in Ireland,’ Caleb said, ‘but I know precious little else about him. And where does his death leave me? I am technically guilty of malpractice without any formal Australian recognition. You are going to have to replace Bowen as a matter of urgency.’
Russell frowned. ‘Malpractice?’
‘I am not licensed to practice medicine in this colony,’ Caleb said.
‘Awkward, I admit, but I am afraid we are going to have to overlook your shortcomings for a little longer, Hunt.’
Caleb nodded. ‘What do you want to do?’
Russell pulled out a heavy gold watch and snapped it open. ‘We’ll set out for Shady Creek in an hour. We’ll be there by nightfall.’
The men agreed to meet at the stables and Caleb went to pack a bag. Alone in Bowen’s home, he struggled with the feeling of loss. He hadn’t known Alfred Bowen long but he had sensed in the old doctor a kindred spirit. They could have been friends—had been friends.
Maidment, Russell and Caleb rode in silence through the hot afternoon, each contemplating the grim task that awaited them at Shady Creek. They reached the hotel by four, the February sun still fierce. The youngest Gulliver child, a scabby boy of about ten, came running out to greet them, and gathered up the reins of their lathered, weary horses.
Russell mopped his sweating face and straightened his tie. The man’s normally florid face seemed to have lost its colour and his eyes were marked by dark blue smudges of exhaustion. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
A police constable, lounging on a bench on the verandah, snapped to attention at the sight of Maidment’s blue serge uniform. Caleb recognised him as one of the Buneep police contingent that had been sent to Maiden’s Creek during the smallpox scare.
‘Constable Brown,’ Maidment said.
‘I’m pleased to see you, sir,’ Brown said, indicating for the party to move to the bank of the creek, out of earshot of anyone in the hotel. ‘My own sergeant’s in Melbourne, giving evidence at a trial.’ He pushed his hat to the back of his head and scratched his thinning scalp. ‘And to be honest with you, this is a strange one.’
The three Maiden’s Creek men glanced at each other.
‘Just tell us what happened.’ Maidment snapped.