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
Like obedient schoolchildren, Sissy and Nell produced their slates and Adelaide began the lesson. Both were apt and able students and, with a bit of education, they could escape their life in Maiden’s Creek.
The tolling of the bell of St Mary’s, the Catholic church, broke the spell of the afternoon.
Nell jumped to her feet. ‘Is that the time? Come on, Sissy, Lil will fine us if we’re late.’
Carrying their hats, and with barely a farewell or backwards glance, the young women scampered down the hill.
Adelaide watched them until they rounded the bend beside the Bank of Victoria. She packed up her sketchbook and the picnic basket and folded the blanket before picking her own way down the hillside and through the peaceful town to the post office where Netty would be preparing the evening meal in the comfortable residence behind the shop front.
Adelaide’s position as postmistress put her in a unique position. She knew, or was known by, nearly every resident in the town and her walk home was punctuated by warm greetings from townspeople out for an evening stroll or hurrying to Mass.
After three years in Maiden’s Creek, Adelaide had come to love the noise, the disorder and the sense of excitement that overhung the town and, most importantly, the sense of belonging. She would not exchange a single moment with Danny here in this wild place for life in Oldfield House.
Three
Three
Shady Creek Hotel, Gippsland
11 December 1871
Caleb stood on the verandah of the hotel, looking up at the blue-grey bulk of the mountain range before him. Shady Creek was a dot on the map, a staging post built on private property just off the main coach road that wound its way through the foothills and shady gullies of the Great Dividing Range. As its name implied, it had been built in the bend of a creek and massive old trees offered shade and respite from the heat of the day. In winter, no doubt, the hotel promised a warm fire and a hot meal.
Even at this early hour of the day, the sun beat down with a ferocity Caleb had never encountered before and it seemed as if the very air shimmered in anticipation of a hot day. He thought of the soft woods of Virginia, so different from this dry, harsh, crackling landscape, heavy with the scent of eucalyptus.
He took a swig of the warm liquid in his pannikin. Tea. He hated tea.
‘Heading for Maiden’s Creek?’ A dark-haired man of much his own age stepped onto the verandah.
‘I am.’ Caleb ran a finger around the collar of his shirt. ‘Tell me, is it always this damn hot?’