The woman gave a simpering giggle and her husband doffed his hat, revealing a fine pair of sideburns and a ferocious pair of eyebrows. ‘One of our colonial brethren, by your accent. Might I venture to suggest a Southern state?’

‘Well, sir, it has been nearly a hundred years since America was a colony, but as to your second observation, you are correct. A Virginian born and bred,’ Caleb replied.

‘Russell.’ The man extended his hand across the cramped space. ‘Osborne Russell, manager of the Bank of Australasia and Justice of the Peace. I’ve just been at a sitting at Buneep.’ He indicated the woman on his left, ‘My good lady wife, Mrs Russell.’

Caleb introduced himself and took Mrs Russell’s gloved hand. ‘A pleasure, ma’am.’ He bowed over the hand in a gesture of Southern gentility that made the woman blush like a debutante.

‘Why, Mr Hunt, such good manners. Please tell me what brings you to Maiden’s Creek?’ she said.

‘The same thing as everyone else—’ The carriage lurched forward and Caleb grabbed at a strategically placed leather strap to prevent himself from ending up in Mrs Russell’s lap.

‘Gold?’ Osborne surmised.

‘He’s got a claim up by Pretty Sally,’ Penrose said.

Russell raised a magnificent greying eyebrow. ‘I’ve got hopes for Pretty Sally, but it’s reef gold, Hunt. Not easy to get out in a small operation.’

Caleb effected a nonchalant shrug and peered out the window. They seemed to have started uphill, the daylight muted by the canopies of the gum trees that soared above the narrow track. Up on the driver’s box, Burrell whistled tunelessly.

‘How long is it going to take us to get there?’

‘It’ll depend on the road. Burrell will spell the horses at the rest house on the Thompson River. If we get there too late, we’ll spend the night,’ Penrose said.

Mrs Osborne sniffed. ‘Odious place. I got bed bugs last time we had to stay there.’

‘But the beer is good,’ Penrose said. Ignoring Mrs Russell’s second sniff, he continued, ‘And after that, it’s a good half-day into Maiden’s Creek. Just pray it stays dry—if we get rain, the road becomes impassable.’ Penrose sat back, crossed his arms, tipped his hat down and closed his eyes. ‘Maiden’s Creek has to be one of the colony’s best-kept secrets. Hard to get into and harder to get out of.’

‘Virginia.’ Russell frowned. He turned to his wife. ‘Mrs Russell has family connections in … where was it my dear?’

‘Fairfax,’ Mrs Russell said. ‘The Stricklands. Do you know them?’

Caleb shook his head. ‘I’m not acquainted with them, ma’am. I’m from the west of the state, the Shenandoah Valley, and I worked in Charlottesville in the south before the war. I’ve not had much cause to go north to Fairfax, even before the war.’