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
He curled a tress of her hair around his finger, a silken bond binding them. Tonight was just the start of something different and exciting. With this woman by his side, they could make something of this new country. He drew a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, summoning his fading memory of his father, the good and Godly man who had railed against slavery, railed against a war that should never have been allowed to occur and railed against a son who had taken up a cause that his father did not believe in. There had been nothing but sadness and disappointment in his father’s tired, grey face when he had come to Elmira. Perhaps his father would have cause to be proud of the man his son had become.
Oh Shenandoah,
I love your daughter,
Away, you rolling river.
For her I’d cross
Your roaming waters,
Away, I’m bound away
’Cross the wide Missouri.
Adelaide stirred in his arms. ‘Are you singing?’
Caleb gave an awkward chuckle. ‘I wasn’t aware I was singing aloud,’ he said.
‘It’s lovely,’ Adelaide said. ‘What is the song?’
‘“Oh, Shenandoah”,’ he said. ‘It’s an old riverman’s song. It reminds me of—’ He had been going to say home, but the Shenandoah Valley belonged to another life. ‘Another time,’ he said. ‘It’s best sung after a few whiskeys.’
Adelaide laughed. Her fingers were tracing whorls in the hair on his chest, sending shafts of fire through his body. He groaned and rolled her over, his mouth seeking hers as she arched beneath his touch.
Forty-Three
Forty-Three
Maiden’s Creek
1 March 1872
‘How was Melbourne?’ Penrose set his hat down on the table, pulled up a stool and sat down with a grunt. He pushed back his hair and signalled for Lil.
Caleb cocked his head, listening to the ceaseless pounding of the stampers, and said, ‘Quiet and expensive. I swear Adelaide spent her entire inheritance on the dressmaker.’
Penrose laughed. ‘Looks like she spent a few pennies on you too. Quite the swell in your fancy new clothes. Does it bother you that it is Adelaide’s money?’
Caleb looked down at the new, bright, jacquard waistcoat. ‘Penrose, you know the state of my wardrobe. A man would have to be a knuckle-headed idiot not to accept a kind offer like that but Adelaide and I, we’ve come to an understanding about how things’ll be between us.’
Lil set two glasses down in front of them. Caleb reached for his purse and she knocked his hand away.
‘On the ’ouse, love,’ she said. ‘Just as long as me and my girls get an invite to the wedding.’
‘That will put the wind up the Mesdames Russell and Jervis,’ Penrose said.