O’Grady hefted a ring of keys from a drawer behind the counter and stomped through the rear door to the cells.

As a rumpled Netty rushed through the door, Amos clasped her to him like a ragdoll. Caleb went straight to Adelaide and, heedless of the crowd around them, caught her in his arms.

‘Thank God you’re safe,’ he said and kissed her hair, his thumb caressing the back of her neck.

She leaned against his chest, breathing in the scent of him. She wanted someone to tell her everything would be all right. That Danny was not out there in the bush with a man who knew nothing about the dangers of bushfires, a man who had lost any right to call himself the boy’s father.

At this last thought, a choking sob escaped and she pushed herself free of him. ‘Richard has Danny—we’ve no time to lose. They’re on the Aberfeldy road heading straight into the fire. Caleb, I need your help.’

Caleb swore and, with his arm around her shoulder, they turned for the door.

Behind them, Maidment protested. ‘Wait. We need the doctor here.’

Caleb turned to the sergeant. ‘Sorry, Maidment. This is more important. I’ll be back later.’

Maidment ran a hand across his red-rimmed eyes. ‘I can’t stop you if you’re heading out to find them,’ he said. ‘I can only caution you to be careful. In this wind, the fire’s moving fast.’

Caleb nodded and clapped the man on the shoulder. ‘Thank you.’ Outside on the street, he turned to Amos. ‘Burrell, can you organise a horse? Adelaide, go back to the post office and wait for me. I just have to fetch something.’

She met his eyes. ‘Your revolver?’

He nodded.

Caleb found Adelaide pacing her parlour floor, dressed in her riding clothes.

‘What took you so long?’

‘I had to remember where I hid the ammunition for the Colt,’ he replied and her gaze dropped to the weapon.

She grasped his sleeve. ‘Let’s go. Amos is waiting at the livery stable.’

‘Adelaide, you’re not coming with me,’ he said. ‘I can handle Barnwell—’

‘Danny’s my son. If anything—anything—happens to him and I’m not there, my own life will not be worth living.’ Her eyes blazed and to emphasise her point, she pushed him in the chest with both hands.

He took a step back. ‘Very well. I won’t argue with you.’

She tossed him a large handkerchief.

‘Tie that round your neck. You’ll need it if we’re riding into smoke. You can wet it and tie it over your nose and mouth.’