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
Caleb drew his jacket over the weapon. ‘Your warning is heeded, sergeant.’
‘On the subject of your friend, Hannigan …’ Maidment pulled a piece of paper from the pigeon holes behind the desk and studied it for a long moment. ‘He was involved in a brawl on the goldfields at Creswick. The constable up there saw him sobered up and sent him on his way. Last seen headed for the Ballarat fields.’
‘Where’s Creswick?’
Maidment crossed to a map of the Colony of Victoria hanging on the wall. He stabbed a finger at an area to the west of Melbourne. ‘If your boy’s out there, it will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. If I was you, I’d forget him, Hunt.’
Outside the police station, Caleb cursed. ‘It irks me to let the bastard get away with it.’
‘Chances are he’s sold your equipment. Even if you find him, you’ll get no satisfaction,’ Penrose said.
‘You’re wrong. It would give me a great deal of satisfaction to find him. He wagered a mine claim with no gold and took advantage of my good nature. I don’t generally let that happen to me more than once.’
‘I don’t think I’d like to cross you,’ Penrose said. ‘Let’s go for a drink at Lil’s.’
Twelve
Twelve
New Year’s Day, 1872
Obedient to the bidding of the Ladies’ Committee, Adelaide had spent the morning at the Mechanics’ Institute, hanging bunting and setting out the trestle tables for the picnic. The Mechanics’ Institute had only been open a year and still smelled of freshly sawn wood. It faced onto a wide crossroads, which today would be closed off for the picnic games. There was a small lending library in the front room and the main hall doubled as a church, an infant school, council chambers and general meeting room.
As she pulled her apron off, ready to return home, Mrs Russell and the ever-present Mrs Jervis, approached her.
‘Thank you for your help, Mrs Greaves. Tell me, will Mr Hunt be attending?’
‘Mr Hunt is a free agent. Whether he attends or not is up to him.’
‘For the sake of the young ladies of the town, I hope he is able to dance.’
‘I very much doubt it,’ Adelaide said. ‘His leg is still bothersome.’
Mrs Russell came closer and lowered her voice. ‘One hopes that he will soon be well enough to make his own way in the town. It does not do a woman of your standing any good to have a single man as a lodger.’
Adelaide bristled. ‘He was injured saving my son. I took him in as any good Christian would do.’
‘Would you have been quite so generous with your Christian hospitality if he had not been so comely?’ Mrs Jervis put in.