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Chapters (53)
  1. Cover
  2. About Alison Stuart
  3. Also by Alison Stuart
  4. Title Page
  5. Dedication
  6. Prologue
  7. One
  8. Two
  9. Three
  10. Four
  11. Five
  12. Six
  13. Seven
  14. Eight
  15. Nine
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Twelve
  19. Thirteen
  20. Fourteen
  21. Fifteen
  22. Sixteen
  23. Seventeen
  24. Eighteen
  25. Nineteen
  26. Twenty
  27. Twenty-One
  28. Twenty-Two
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. Twenty-Four
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-Three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. Thirty-Nine
  46. Forty
  47. Forty-One
  48. Forty-Two
  49. Forty-Three
  50. Forty-Four
  51. Author’s Note
  52. Acknowledgements
  53. Preview of The Goldminer's Sister

The main street bustled with activity. Bullock trains vied with packhorses for right of way and Burrell bellowed for everyone to make way. Saloons, or ‘pubs’, as Caleb had learned they were called, seemed to account for every other building. They each proclaimed the best beer in Maiden’s Creek. They passed a general store and at least two banks. Most of the buildings were timber, some painted but others still raw boards. Only the banks seemed to have an air of permanence and respectability. If gold had been discovered less than ten years earlier, the town had risen fast, too fast for the basic services a town like this required. Caleb wondered what kind of hell he had come across.

As if reading his thoughts, Russell said, ‘We have our problems, Mr Hunt, but I am proud of this town and its people.’

‘Who governs the town?’

‘We have a council of respectable business people and I am one of three Justices of the Peace,’ Russell said. ‘Ah, here we are. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Hunt. I wish you the best with your endeavours and if you should need any—’ he coughed, ‘—financial advice, please do not hesitate to talk with me. I can assure you that you will receive the best possible service.’

Better than any other bank in town, his tone implied.

The coach drew to a shuddering halt outside a double-storeyed hostelry graced with an elegant lacework iron balcony on the upper floor and a well-painted sign that read: The Empress. Caleb had arrived.

Four

Four

The long school day dragged to a close and ended as it always did: with the elderly schoolmaster pulling his fob watch from his waistcoat. The sixty-five children of all ages held their collective breath as he tapped the glass face, as if he didn’t quite believe what the hands revealed. Mr Emerton rose to his feet, his hand going at a glacial pace to the school bell that stood on the corner of his desk. He picked it up and gave three short rings, releasing the students of the Maiden’s Creek School into the world with whoops and shouts.

Danny Greaves led a solitary life, happy in his own company. He had little in common with his schoolmates, who mercifully ignored him most of the time. He suspected they felt sorry for him, ‘the poor fatherless child’ as he had heard other women in the town refer to him. He decided long ago he would rather be fatherless than have a father who came home drunk and took out his frustrations on his wife and children; several of the boys frequently arrived at school sporting black eyes and other bruises. However, he secretly envied those boys with more kindly fathers who took them hunting for kangaroos or fishing on the Thompson River on their days off.