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
Adelaide sat, trying to comprehend what Caleb had just said. She had been so certain that once Danny was home and in his own bed, all would be well.
‘I couldn’t have borne it …’ she said.
Caleb laid a hand over hers. He turned it over, his thumb caressing the soft skin at her wrist.
‘Neither could I. That boy means the world to me.’ He paused. ‘Adelaide, you’ll have to tell him the truth about Richard—all of it.’
A cold, sick feeling roiled in Adelaide’s guts. She stood up and paced the kitchen. ‘Will he hate me? I have lied to him all his life.’
‘But for the right reasons,’ Netty interposed. She clapped her hands. ‘Caleb Hunt, time for you to find your own bed and as for you Adelaide Greaves …’ She frowned. ‘That doesn’t sound right all of a sudden. The “Greaves” that is.’
‘As far as the world is concerned,’ Adelaide said, ‘I am still Adelaide Greaves. No one else need know the truth.’
Caleb pushed himself up from the table. Now the worst had passed, he looked grey with exhaustion.
She laid her hands on his chest. ‘Caleb. How do I even begin to thank you?’
He shook his head. ‘You don’t, Adelaide. I’m going home.’ He took her hands in his and kissed her fingertips. ‘Tomorrow is a new day.’
‘Tomorrow is today,’ Netty snapped. ‘Both of you be gone. I’ll sit with the lad.’
The kitchen door shut behind Caleb and Netty regarded Adelaide with a baleful eye. ‘And to think you nearly gave it all up to marry that useless bastard.’
Adelaide placed a kiss on Netty’s cheek. ‘What would I do without your ruthless honesty, dear Netty? Goodnight.’
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Eight
Maiden’s Creek
18 February 1872
Danny woke to church bells and the sound of rain beating against the window. He lay quite still with his eyes shut, trying to remember how he came to be back in his own bed, but he could dredge up little beyond agreeing to go on a hunt for bushranger’s gold with Uncle Richard. He screwed his eyes tight, stricken by the wickedness of playing truant from school and not telling his mother what he planned to do. She must have been terribly worried.
There had been a bushfire and he hadn’t wanted to go on, but Uncle Richard had taken hold of his pony’s reins and dragged him into the smoke and confusion. He’d been so afraid. He stifled a sob and a hand touched his shoulder. Danny opened his eyes to find himself looking up into a familiar, friendly face. Caleb.
Caleb had been there. Caleb had saved him from the fire, from Uncle Richard and … and—why did his arm hurt?
‘Good morning, Dan, you’re back with us,’ Caleb said and his soft drawl had never sounded so welcome.
‘Have I been somewhere?’ Danny managed.